


Elevator Music

by Ketch22



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM References, Castiel (Supernatural) Works in an Office, Castiel and Dean Winchester Being Idiots, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Castiel and Dean Winchester are Dorks, Dom Castiel/Sub Dean Winchester, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Lawyer Sam Winchester, M/M, Smut, Subdrop, Trapped In Elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-03-17 23:51:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 25,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18974839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ketch22/pseuds/Ketch22
Summary: Sam is about to become name partner at the law firm he's worked at for years. He invites Dean to the celebration, but Dean gets trapped in the elevator with Sam's pompous, dickbag, too-good looking coworker Castiel. Stuck for hours with someone he hates and a boatload of alcohol, what could possibly go wrong?





	1. Chapter 1

Dean looked at the clock and frowned. He had about an hour before he had to be at Sammy’s law firm to celebrate his promotion to name partner, and he still looked a hell of a lot like a grease monkey. 

 

He showered quickly, taking care to scrub as many oil stains from his skin as he could. Most of them were permanent by this point, so his brother’s hot-shot lawyer friends would just have to suck it up and deal. 

 

He’d been at Lafitte & Novak (soon to be Lafitte, Novak & Winchester) enough times to know that he was going to get judged no matter what he looked like. He wouldn’t even go tonight if it wasn’t the single most important night of Sammy’s life. 

 

This is what they’d trained him for. This is why Dean worked two, sometimes three jobs for years. Getting Sammy through law school and giving him enough cash to move permanently to LA so he could get his foot in the door at L&N, which was the law firm Sammy had had his eye on since his sophomore year at Stanford. 

 

That was six years ago, and Sammy climbed the ladder faster than Dean thought possible. He was about to become the youngest name partner in recent memory in any law firm on the west coast, and he’d paid Dean back in spades. 

 

A few years ago, Dean had still been living in Kansas when Sammy called and told him he bought Dean a present. That was a gross understatement, seeing as how that  _ present  _ was an entire auto shop. Dean tried to refuse, but the bastard had waited a full week after signing to tell him, which meant they couldn’t back out on the deal. 

 

So Dean had packed his shit and moved to LA, where he’s been ever since. Turns out Cali natives can be dicks though, so he’d found himself in Sam’s office more times than he could count making sure he wasn’t gonna get sued because some dumbass wrecked the car Dean recently rebuilt. He was too good at his job to believe it was anything he ever did. 

 

But those close calls had given him opportunities to meet some of Sammy’s coworkers. A few of the lawyers weren’t so bad, and Benny Lafitte probably would have been Dean’s best friend if they weren’t so fundamentally different. But the other name partner, Some Dumbass First Name Novak? He was an environmental lawyer with a stick up his ass and a hatred for the kinds of cars Dean so deeply loved restoring. 

 

Who cares that he had a jawline for days and eyes like the friggen ocean. The dude was a dick, plain and simple. No amount of panic-inducing good looks could make up for a shit personality, at least not at this stage in Dean’s life. 

 

He dressed quickly, opting for his least torn up jeans, the dress shoes he’d only worn for his dad’s funeral and a plain, still-mostly-white button down dress shirt over a black undershirt. He rolled the sleeves up to his elbows and didn’t even bother with a tie. 

 

This would have to do, and he didn’t think Sam expected him to show up in a suit anyway. 

 

He drove over to L&N after stopping to grab the booze for this high class little shindig, and it took him way too long to find a spot Baby could safely fit in without the fear that some dumbass, drunk lawyer would scratch her paint job by swinging open the door to his hybrid, computer-run piece of trash vehicle. 

 

It was already storming like crazy. Dean was mentally kicking himself for wearing a white shirt during a torrential downpour, but at least he wasn’t a chick. 

 

He fixed his hair in the rear-view mirror and reminded himself that he was here for Sammy, and he would  _ not  _ under any circumstances let the rest of these puffed-up douchebags get to him. He belonged here because Sammy belonged here. 

 

Dean ran in as fast as the bags he was carrying would allow him. He took a moment to unstick his wet shirt from his chest and shake some excess rain from his hair with his free hand. After wiping his shoes on the carpet just inside the door, he headed for the elevator. He stopped short when he saw that Some Dumbass First Name Novak was standing right in front of it with a couple other lawyers Dean knew by face but not by name.

 

_ This fuckin’ guy.  _

 

Dean nearly took the stairs, but he had an armful of wine and whiskey bottles and there were about 8 flights he’d need to climb in order to reach Sammy’s floor. 

 

_ Elevator it is, just ignore him.  _

 

He stood a safe distance from them but close enough that he’d be able to catch the lift before the doors closed. None of them even so much as glanced at Dean, which suited him just fine. 

 

He boarded quickly and moved to the back, assuming they were all going the same place that he was. He chewed on his lip and tried to make himself invisible without looking like he wasn’t supposed to be there - which was turning out to be harder than he thought. 

 

He caught bits of conversation as the elevator began to move up, and the two other lawyers ended up getting off three floors early, claiming they needed to stop in their own offices before heading up to the giant meeting room where this little party was supposed to happen. 

 

That left him alone with Dumbass, but he reminded himself as the doors slid shut again that it was only for a few moments and it wasn’t that big of a deal. 

 

Or, it wouldn’t have been, if there wasn’t a huge crack of thunder followed by the abrupt stop of the elevator they were in. 

 

He heard the damn thing power down, and the overhead lights switched to emergency mode, which meant they were now illuminated only by the flashing red alarm lights. 

 

He set his bags down and ignored Dumbass hyperventilating next to him.  _ Good, it’s about fuckin’ time you’re the uncomfortable one here.  _

 

A quick check told him that the call button wasn’t doing shit, and after sliding open the escape hatch tile and doing some near acrobatics to boost himself up into the small opening, he’d discovered they’d stopped in the middle of a floor so no amount of trying to pry open doors would do them any good. They were too close to the top to actually try to climb out - if the elevator abruptly started working again, they could get crushed. 

 

He dropped back to his feet and landed with a squishy thud thanks to the dampness in his shoes from his dash inside. 

 

“You tellin’ me this place doesn’t have backup generators?”

 

Dumbass was still sucking in air like he’d spent the last several minutes nearly drowning. Dean just quirked an amused eyebrow at him until irritation seemed to overtake whatever panic he was feeling, and Dumbass leveled a grade-A glare at him. 

 

If it sent chills down Dean’s spine, he could blame it on the storm. 

 

“Of course this building has back-up generators. They power the lights and exit doors, not something as useless as an elevator. In times of crisis, the intelligent thing to do is take the stairs.”

 

“Y’know, for a dude that was just havin’ a full blown panic attack, you’re real fuckin’ judgy.”

 

Dumbass blinked. In the pulsing red light, the five-o’clock shadow dusting his cheeks and jaw was even more visible. Dean hated him for it. 

 

“I told Samuel this was a bad idea. He should have rescheduled for a night where there weren’t record-breaking storms in the forecast.”

 

Dean scrunched up his face. “ _ Samuel?  _ Dude, his name is Sam. Samuel was our grandpa.”

 

“He doesn’t seem to mind it.”

 

Dean glared at him, remembering all the times Sammy had tried to insist his name was Sam, not Sammy or Samuel. What was so special about this overdressed asswagon that meant he could call his brother  _ anything  _ other than Sam, when even Dean himself had been told off for it? 

 

He pulled out his phone to call his brother, both for confirmation that he likes being called  _ Samuel  _ and to let him know that he hadn’t bailed, he was just stuck. He should have expected he wouldn’t get service here, but it was still a blow nonetheless when the little spot that usually showed three or four bars was now reading  _ No Service.  _

 

“How long you think it’ll be before someone comes and gets us outta here?”

 

Dumbass seemed to have settled down. “It just depends on what’s happening elsewhere. It could be minutes, it could be hours.”

 

_ Fuckin’ awesome.  _

 

“Great, well uh… why don’t you just stay on your half of this death trap and I’ll stay on mine, yeah?” 

 

Dumbass narrowed his eyes. “I thought you were Samuel’s  _ older  _ brother?”

 

His face flushed. “First of all, quit friggin’ callin’ him that. Second of all, I am. But it’s not exactly a state secret you and I don’t get along, I’m just tryin’ to make this shit as painless as possible.”

 

“By being a child?”

 

Dean clenched his jaw. He wanted to say something -  _ anything  _ back to him, but he couldn’t think of a single thing that wouldn’t just prove his point. He let out a sharp breath through his nose and sat down, leaning back against the wall. 

 

This was going to be a long night. 

 


	2. Hour One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I’m impatient. Here’s a surprise midweek chapter.

**_Castiel_ **

 

_ Of all of the people to get trapped in an elevator with, it  _ **_had_ ** _ to be Samuel’s older brother.  _

 

He refused to look at him.  _ Couldn’t  _ look at him, not if he wanted to remain sane. The second he allowed his eyes to linger on the way Dean’s rain-dampened shirt clung to his muscular, tanned arms it would be all downhill from there. 

 

He sat down against the opposite wall and as far away from Dean as their close quarters would allow. For his part, Dean didn’t respond to Castiel’s baiting. He never did, at least not more than once. 

 

Cass had taken an immediate interest in Dean the first time he ever laid eyes on him. He remembered it like it was yesterday, although at this point it was probably close to three years ago. He had just returned to the office after a particularly difficult day in court when a dirty, greasy, devastatingly handsome man had stopped him just outside of that very elevator and asked him for directions to Sam Winchester’s office. His mouth had effectively gone home for the day, so after he’d managed to yank his eyes back up to an appropriate place on Dean’s body, he’d wordlessly lead him to his destination. 

 

_ Yes, because you make a living by cleverly and expertly articulating yourself, and yet one dirty mechanic comes in and suddenly you were the poster child for ‘cat got your tongue?’.  _

 

The minutes stretched on in silence, leaving Castiel to think back on some of their other meetings. 

 

Awkward shoulder brushes in too-cramped hallways. 

 

Conversations brought to sudden halts when Cass needed to alert Samuel of an upcoming case, constantly interrupting because Dean was never officially listed in Samuel’s schedule. 

 

He was busy remembering the day he’d finally worked up the courage to ask Sam if Dean was seeing anyone when the real Dean, the present Dean, cleared his throat. 

 

Cass’s eyes sought out the source of the noise out of instinct. Dean wasn’t looking at him;  he was making a show of cleaning something dark out from underneath his fingernails. 

 

Cass allowed himself to look. To see the way Dean’s jaw flexed in concentration, and his brows pinched curiously, adorably, at the whatever-it-was that had lodged itself between nail bed and skin. 

 

And if Cass’s gaze was drawn to those rough, calloused fingers, that wasn’t really his fault. Dean was looking at them, so why shouldn’t Cass? 

 

“You got a problem, buddy?” 

 

Cass visibly twitched and mentally slapped himself for it. He shook his head. “No, I’m just wondering why you couldn’t be bothered to wash your hands if you were going to become so concerned with the state of your fingernails.” 

 

_ Perfect. That was excellent. Insult him, very well done. That is absolutely the way to get someone to notice you.  _

 

Even in the dim red light, he could see Dean’s face flush. 

 

“Sorry we can’t all be white-collar douchebags. Your hands ever been dirty in your whole life? You look like the kinda guy that woulda stayed inside as a kid to play with dolls instead of actually goin’ outside.” 

 

It was true, but it still cut at some little part of him he thought was long past the humiliation that came along with not conforming to gender norms. 

 

“I don’t see how my hands are any of your concern.” 

 

“You’re makin’ mine yours, aren’t you?” 

 

Cass just shut his mouth. He didn’t have a good answer, and this conversation was steamrolling in the opposite direction of anything Castiel might actually want. 

 

“That’s what I thought.” 

 

Time ticked on, with only the raging thunder and heavy patter of rain to keep them company. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will likely be updated twice a week since these chapters will be so short. I’m thinking Thursdays and still definitely Sundays.


	3. Hour Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Cass sort of understands that reference and Dean's mind finds its way to the gutter.

**_Dean:_ **

 

_The fuckin’ nerve of this dude, are you shittin’ me?_

 

Dean pointedly stopped looking at his hands. In the absence of that distraction, he looked just about everywhere else _but_ at Dumbass.

 

He sucked on his teeth and clicked his tongue to fill the silence, and ultimately started humming.

 

“What is that?”

 

“Dude, you don’t know Metallica?”

 

Still not looking. Especially not now, if the guy didn’t even have decent taste in music, there was no _point_ to looking.

 

“I know Metallica, Dean. Your humming skills are sub-par at best, and I was having trouble discerning whether you were trying to hum ‘Wherever I May Roam’ or ‘Nothing Else Matters.’”

 

He looked. “It was actually ‘King Nothing,’ you sure you know Metallica?”

 

“Are you sure you’re not just _that_ bad?”

 

“Hmph.” He was fidgeting again, but this time it was less out of irritation and more out of a sense of nervousness he couldn’t quite place. “Just tryin’ to make some elevator music, man. Plug your ears or somethin’.”

 

His eyes met Dumbass’s for too long to be taken at face-value. He also figured he should probably stop calling him _Dumbass._ “You’re uhh… Novak, right? As in Lafitte and Novak?”

 

“You’ve seen the billboards.”

 

“No, I’ve seen _you._ Just don’t think we were ever formally introduced.”

 

“I wasn’t aware you knew the meaning of the word.”

 

 _Bitch. Time to go on the offensive._ He put on his best arrogant-yet-adorable smirk. “I think I clean up just fine, don’t you?”

 

Dean’s insides gave a triumphant little _whoop_ as Dumbass’s eyes traveled down and settled somewhere on his chest. He was finally dry from the rain bath he took on the way in, but he still knew he looked good. And judging by the look on that guy’s face, he knew it, too.

 

“Castiel.”

 

 _Huh?_ “Bless you.”

 

“I didn’t sneeze, although it’s good to know you _do_ possess the skills necessary to at least feign basic manners. That’s my name. Castiel.”

 

“Yeah, I’m not callin’ you that.”

 

“You don’t need to call me anything.”

 

Dean shook his head. “Cass it is. Rhymes with _ass,_ so I guess that’s pretty fitting. Should be easy enough to remember.”

 

Silence, broken only by a roll of thunder that shook the whole building.

 

“You really didn’t know my name?”

 

Dean shifted his position on the floor, and paid no attention to the fact that he ended up a couple of inches closer to Cass. “I knew it, I think, I just couldn’t remember for sure. It’s a weird name, kinda a mouthful, y’know?”

 

“Then you’re right, I suppose it _is_ fitting.” Cass’s face was so serious that it took Dean several long, awkward seconds to catch onto the joke.

 

He blushed, utterly and completely grateful that it probably wouldn’t be noticed in the red light.

 

Probably.

 

“My mouth ain’t _that_ big, pal. Nickname it is.”

 

“Are you sure? I think your mouth is plenty big, why don’t you find out?”

 

Dean blinked, his eyes widening. “Dude, I’m not gonna blow you on an elevator.” He paused, maybe for too long. “Or fuckin’ anywhere. No blowjobs. Anywhere. Just --”

 

“I meant my name, Dean. Interesting you assumed I meant something else.”

 

“You - what?” _Fuck. Good one, Dean._

 

Cass smirked, and it was the first time in history that Dean had seen the man do anything other than scowl or frown. He noticed despite himself that it was a _damn_ good look on him.

 

They fell back into silence, and no matter what Dean tried to do - he just couldn’t get his mind back on track.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys get two chapters today because this one was short and I feel bad.


	4. Hour Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Cass starts asking the real questions.

**_Castiel:_ **

 

He was allowing himself to look a little more frequently.

 

His eyes shifted from Dean to the bag he’d brought, and grabbed ahold of that like a lifeline - and an excuse to break the silence. “Is there anything good in the bag?” 

 

“If you like wine or whiskey, there is. You strike me as a wine kinda guy.” 

 

Again, it was true, but not something Dean needed to know. “Give me a bottle of whiskey.” He held out his hand, and then added, “please?” 

 

Dean frowned, and Castiel quickly pushed down the desire to kiss it right off of his face. 

 

“It’s for the party.” 

 

“Dean, we’ve been down here for nearly three hours. Either they rescheduled the party, in which case I’ll have plenty of time to replace whatever I drink, or they had the party without us, in which case this liquor is no longer necessary to their entertainment.” 

 

“Well, when you say it like  _ that _ …” 

 

Dean handed him a bottle of whiskey, and Cass nearly changed his mind and opted for wine. Dean’s cheeks looked adorable flushed from embarrassment, he was almost too eager to recreate the scene with alcohol. 

 

He unscrewed the lid and took an exploratory sniff of the liquid inside, nearly immediately wishing he hadn’t. Whiskey was bitter and sour in ways that just didn’t appeal to Castiel, but he took a drink regardless of those facts. He did his best to control the grimace as he swallowed the lukewarm substance down, but Dean laughed anyway. 

 

“Yeah, see? Knew you were a wine guy.” 

 

“Just give me the damn bottle.” Cass passed the whiskey bottle back to Dean and accepted the wine that Dean offered up with a chuckle. “It’s not funny.” 

 

Dean’s grin only grew, and Cass was nearly struck dumb by what a change it made on his face. Sure, he was ruggedly good looking when he was angry or upset, but when he was happy? It changed almost everything about him in all the best ways. All Cass could do was stare. 

 

Dean blushed. 

 

Cass beamed. 

 

They both drank. 

 

Dean cleared his throat and looked away, and the moment was lost. Cass sighed quietly as he let the wine wash the taste of whiskey from his mouth. 

 

“They gonna leave us in here all night?” 

 

Cass shrugged, taking a hasty drink. “Possibly.” 

 

“Yeah, well… that might be fine and good for you, but I gotta get home.” 

 

Something deep in Cass’s chest rejected the thought that Dean actually had something to go home to. Not because he didn’t believe it, but because he didn’t  _ want  _ to believe it. 

 

_ Stop. This man is infuriating. He’s crass and dirty and judgmental. Don’t waste another thought on him, it’s just the close proximity that’s clouding your rationality.  _

 

“Right, of course. I imagine your girlfriend must be getting worried about you.” 

 

Dean’s eyes focused on the space between them. The space that Cass was surprised to see had shrunk dramatically in the passing of bottles. “Don’t have one.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Wife, then.”

 

Dean sighed. “Nope, and before you ask anymore questions, I don’t have anyone waitin’ for me. But that doesn’t mean I don’t wanna get home.” 

 

That little knot in his chest loosened. Cass ignored it. “I’m sorry for assuming.” 

 

Dean licked his lips and kept his eyes away from Cass. “Whatever, man.” 

 

Once more, the silence split the air between them and the only movement became the shadows cast by the ever-pulsing red alarm light. Cass was grateful the alarm wasn’t audible and the storm had died down, or else he might have missed it when Dean started humming again. 

 

Tone-deaf or not, he didn’t think he was misunderstanding the song this time. 

 

He was humming  _ Sick Again.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sick Again - Led Zeppelin
> 
> From the window of your rented limousine   
> I saw your pretty blue eyes   
> One day soon you're gonna reach sixteen   
> Painted lady in the city of lies  
> Oh, do you know my name?   
> Do I look the same?   
> You know I'm the one you want, babe   
> I must be the one you need, yeah  
> Clutching pages from your teenage dream   
> In the lobby of the Hotel Paradise   
> Through the circus of the LA queens   
> How fast your learn the downhill side  
> Oh, how you like my face?   
> Still don't know your name  
> You know I'm the one you want, babe   
> Oh yes, I must be the one you need, yeah  
> Oh, you got me feeling  
> Just a bit, just a bit  
> Lips like cherries and the brow of a queen   
> Come on, flash it in my eyes   
> Said you dug me since you were thirteen  
> Then you giggle as you heave and sigh  
> Oh, do you know my name?   
> Do I look the same?   
> Baby I gotta tell you, I'm the one you want  
> And everybody know I'm the one you need, yeah  
> Oh, give it to me, come on now  
> Hours, hours, and the moments in between   
> Oh, baby, I couldn't count the times   
> The fun of comin', oh the pain in leavin'   
> Baby, dry those silver eyes  
> Oh, do you know my name?   
> Do I look the same?   
> You know I'm the one you want   
> Oh yes, I'm the one you need  
> Oh, that's right, oh, yes that's right  
> Oh, that's right, that's right, that's right  
> Oh yeah, that's right


	5. Hour Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Dean and Cass start to use their words and it goes about as well as a car going over a road riddled with potholes.

** _Dean:_ **

 

He stopped himself when he finally realized what he was humming.

 

_Of all the Led Zeppelin songs, you picked that one? Who’s the dumbass now?_

 

He pulled his shirt away from his skin and groaned at the way the sweat caused the fabric to cling in all the wrong places. It was getting hot in that elevator, and not just because Cass had ditched his trench coat and rolled his sleeves up. The lack of central air cooling that death box down meant the temperature was rising higher with each passing hour.

 

Dean was never very good at sitting still, so he fidgeted. Pulled his knees in and then stretched them out again, clicking his toes together like fucking Dorothy.

 

_There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home. There’s no place like - oh, fuck it._

 

“So uhh… you know my brother pretty well then, huh?”

 

Cass didn’t answer right away, and Dean took the gap in conversation as a chance to drink. Whiskey, not wine. He didn’t hate wine, but at this point, he was choosing whiskey just to remind both of them how different they really were.

 

As if that was something that needed exaggerated or pointed out.

 

“Yes, we’ve worked closely for several years. I was the one that officially nominated him to become name partner.”

 

Dean’s face relaxed. “Yeah?”

 

“He’s very good at his job, and I would be hard pressed to find another individual with his work ethic. He brings more to the table than anyone; his parents did an excellent job of raising him.”

 

So much for relaxing. Dean’s entire body stiffened, both from the reminder that their parents were long dead and the knowledge that _he_ was the one that raised Sam.

 

“You really think so?”

 

Cass nodded, mercifully oblivious of the blossom of chick-flick moment bullshit spreading throughout Dean’s chest and touching his fucking toes. Even if the guy didn’t know it was really Dean, the compliment was still there.

 

“Yeah, uh… I guess they did. Sammy’s pretty great.” He smiled at the floor, the whiskey temporarily forgotten.

 

“It makes an argument for nurture vs nature, but then when one adds in the _surrounding_ details, I think Sam might be an example of nature winning out.”

 

_What?_

 

“What?”

 

“I just mean you and your brother are very different creatures. You were presumably raised in the same household, so was it really nurture at all?”

 

“Dude, you couldn’t just stick with the compliment?” He reaches forward and snatched the wine bottle from him. “No more wine for you.”

 

Cass tilted his head. “You’re offended.”

 

“Ya fuckin’ think? First of all, you don’t know jack _shit_ about how me and Sammy were raised, and you know even _less_ about me. Must be nice to sit up here in your ivory fuckin’ tower and think you know everything.”

 

So much for the abandoned whiskey. He drank.

 

“So let me learn.” His voice was so quiet that Dean wasn’t sure he heard him right.

 

“What?”

 

“Let me learn. Tell me what I’ve gotten wrong. Correct me, Dean. Don’t chastise me.”

 

Dean bristled. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

 

“You’re right, you don’t. But I’m asking you to anyway.”

 

“What, cuz you suddenly give a shit about a dirty mechanic that doesn’t even belong in the same stratosphere as you?”

 

Cass frowned, and it was a full body movement that had his shoulders slumping every bit as much as his lips. Like a fucking deflated water balloon.

 

“Samuel refused to tell me anything about you. Believe me, I asked.”

 

Dean must have heard him wrong. Had to have, nobody asks about him. Especially not _here._

 

“Shut up.”

 

Another exasperated eye roll. “If you don’t believe me, ask him.”

 

“Why wouldn’t he have already told me?

 

Awkward, tangible silence. Cass looked a little like he’d been caught in a lie, which Dean all too readily believed.

 

“Because I asked him if you were seeing anyone.”

 

“Oh.”

 

A long, bitter drag of whiskey later, Dean’s brain shorted out. “Oh. Uhh. Yeah. Oh. I’m uhh… no, I’m not.”

 

“Yes, we’ve… covered that already.” Cass was trying not to smirk, but it was clear in the way his eyes - his stupid, stupid blue eyes - lit up that he couldn’t hold it back if you paid him.

 

“Right, yeah I know we did. I was just…”

 

Whiskey has always been one of Dean’s closest confidants, but right now it was his best fucking friend.

 

“Aren’t you going to ask me if _I’m_ seeing anyone?”

 

He nearly choked, and quickly pulled the bottle away from his mouth. It wasn’t a graceful movement, but the second that it took to wipe the amber liquid from his chin with the back of his hand bought him time to think.

 

“What makes you think I even care?”

 

“Don’t you?”

 

 _Don’t fuckin’ answer him. This is a trap. But wait, isn’t_ **_not_ ** _answering kinda also an answer?_ Adrenaline was pumping traitorous blood right to his fucking cheeks again, which was made worse by the fact that he’d downed a third of a bottle of whiskey in near record time. _Don’t commit to anything._

 

“That’s what I thought,” Cass interrupted before Dean could force his lips to form even the most basic words. “And for the record, the answer is no. I’m not seeing anyone, but I would be open to the idea of it.”

 

“Yeah, bet your open to a lot of things, pal.” Dean immediately grimaced, and he couldn’t work out whether he’d actually meant that as an insult, a come-on, or a fiery combination.

 

“I am. Are you?”

 

_Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thursday! If you like it, let me know. If you don't like it, tell me why. Feedback makes the world go 'round... or, at least mine. :)


	6. Hour Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Cass gets tired of playing cat and mouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated tags. 
> 
> Happy Sunday! ;)

**_Castiel:_ **

 

Watching Dean struggle to answer was the highlight of Castiel’s entire week. He looked almost constipated the way his breath hitched and his face screwed up in indignant concentration. 

 

He kept his facial expression as neutral as the fireworks in his chest would allow. “You don’t have to answer, Dean. I realize that was presumptuous.”

 

“ _ You’re…  _ presumptuous.” 

 

Cass licked his lips in an effort to keep from outright grinning. “That’s what I said, yes.”

 

Dean leaned forward and started unbuttoning his shirt. Castiel tried to stop his eyes from widening, but they clearly had a mind of their own. 

 

“Relax, Casanova. It’s just hot in here, it’s like a hundred fucking degrees.” Even once Dean removed the damp white dress shirt he was wearing, there was still a thin layer of fabric between Cass’s needy eyes and their target. 

 

“I thought it was just me.”

 

Dean scoffed. “Cocky, much?”

 

“I meant that I believed I was the only one that was overheated, but again… it’s amusing the way your mind works.” Cass took that opportunity to roll the sleeves of his own dress shirt up higher, which drew a hesitant but raptured look from Dean. “However, I’m confident in my own abilities, if you’d prefer we stick with your train of thought.”

 

More whiskey. More wine. More tense, thick silence. 

 

“Well good for you.” Dean’s response was too belated to be genuine, and Castiel’s imagination was having a field day with all of the possible things Dean  _ might  _ have said if he hadn’t talked himself out of it. 

 

“Good for my partners, too.”

 

He couldn’t help himself. Dean was beautiful on a good day, but here? In the low, reddish light, sweat glistening on his skin and absolutely squirming? Cass had never seen anything like it. 

 

The resounding thunder crack that once again shook their small enclosure only intensified the look on Dean’s face. 

 

“You got a lotta those?”

 

Cass shook his head. “I’m extremely picky, which leads me to go long stretches of time without even one.” 

 

“Yeah? How picky? Figures a guy like you has a  _ type.” _

 

He wasn’t exactly sure what that was supposed to mean, but Castiel wasn’t about to miss an opportunity handed so perfectly to him. He chose his words carefully, wanting to draw it out and lead Dean towards the inevitable conclusion. A test, of sorts. 

 

“My type? Oh, I’d like to think it varies.”

 

Dean adjusted his position, and it wasn’t until the toe of his shoe nudged Cass’s elbow that he realized how close they’d truly gotten to each other. 

 

Like a magnetic pull, a moon bound to a planet; or a tide drawn to shore. 

 

“What’s uhh… what’s your type now?”

 

_ Perfect. Beautiful, Dean.  _ “It’s hard to pinpoint. But, if I had to describe  _ him,”  _ emphasis on the word only seemed to ensnare even more of Dean’s attention, “I would use traits like green eyes, freckles, maybe a couple of inches taller than me. Strong hands, perhaps calloused around the pads of their palms or the tips of their fingers. Something that shows me they’re not only afraid to work hard, but that I’d feel every centimeter of movement when they touched me. There’s something… erotic about that level of awareness.”

 

Cass was no longer pretending that he wasn’t looking at Dean as he continued. “Hair that could only be described as the color of toasted almonds. Long enough to run my fingers through, but not so long that it would cover their face.”

 

He paused for a long enough stretch of time that Dean finally choked out a “uhnhuh” sound. 

 

“That’s just the physical traits, however, and I would be willing to budge on those. It’s the personality that makes me such a choosy do-“ Cass cleared his throat and corrected. “Such a choosy person.”

 

“No, don’t do that. Say what you mean.”

 

_ There it is. My god, he’s wonderful. So responsive, so easily nudged in the right direction.  _ “Such a choosy dom.” 

 

Dean swallowed as though the air around them was made of peanut butter. 

 

“Like a - a - some kinda BDSM shit?”

 

He quirked a smile. “Yes, Dean. Although not all of it is about whips and chains, despite what popular culture might teach you. It’s about control, and having another person willingly submit themselves to you. It can be extremely gratifying for both participants if done correctly.”

 

Dean looked uncomfortable, and Cass briefly wondered if he’d misread the situation. 

 

“So you’re - you want a… someone to what, call you Daddy and shit?”

 

Cass fought a laugh and relaxed. “If that’s what they were into, I wouldn’t say no. I’d also accept  _ sir  _ or  _ Castiel,  _ since often times my name is shortened to Cass. It’s about respect more so than the actual moniker.” 

 

“Uh huh. Right.” Dean shifted, and Cass didn’t miss the way he pulled his discarded dress shirt over his crotch. 

 

Maybe he hadn’t misread it at all.


	7. Hour Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Dean struggles with what he wants.

**_Dean :_ **

 

This was the absolute worst time for his dick to realize it wants to get bossed around. He’d tried to make the transition of his shirt from floor to lap inconspicuous, but the look on Castiel’s face told him it was anything  _ but.  _

 

He was blushing and sweating in a way that had nothing to do with the heat. 

 

_ No wait, that’s exactly what it is. It’s the damn heat. The close quarters, and the damn end of the world vibe these alarm lights and the storm are givin’ off. You don’t wanna be bossed around by some dickbag lawyer. Nope. This is  _ **_not_ ** _ happening.  _

 

“There’s something so…  _ enticing  _ about watching the moment someone steps outside of themselves to exist in a plane of pure, unfiltered bliss. Being the one to  _ cause  _ that bliss, well… it changes everything. I prefer to push limits, not boundaries. When I find a sub that  _ wants  _ to be pushed - tested in that manner, I’m in my prime. Watching my partner squirm and fall apart under my touch and direction is, frankly, intoxicating in a way that the alcohol you’re drinking never could be.” 

 

Castiel’s voice had dropped an entire goddamn octave, and fuck if it didn’t do things to Dean he never thought were possible without actual, physical contact. 

 

It was definitely happening. 

 

Dean was on his feet, boner be damned. There was no way he was sitting still after that. 

 

Cass stood up seconds later, and the space between them lessened with every slow, deliberate step Castiel took. 

 

“What are  _ your  _ limits, Dean? Do you even know? Has  _ anyone  _ ever challenged you? Built you up and up until you were crawling out of your skin, but you manage to hold back because you want - you  _ need  _ to be a good boy?” 

 

Dean’s sanity took a permanent fucking vacation at those last two words. Any semblance of false bravado or arrogance he usually tried to exude depleted the harder his dick became, and it was already near painful. He was too busy trying to figure out how someone could actually  _ sound  _ like a walking fucking orgasm to notice that he was now absolutely caged between Castiel’s outstretched arms against the back of the elevator. 

 

“Mmnnmh.” 

 

Thunder dominated his ears and Cass’s voice was dominating his dick. 

 

“Tell me, Dean. Say it.”

 

He swallowed, closing his eyes and trying to control the vibrations ebbing out through his bones. “No.”

 

“No….?”

 

“No, Castiel.”

 

“Good boy.”

 

_ Fucking hell.  _ “Christ, how the hell did a nerdy little dork like you learn to be so…” 

 

Dean opened his eyes to see a smirk lit up in red. “Practice, Dean. Tell me what you want.” 

 

He shook his head quickly.  _ No, nope. Can’t. Won’t.  _

 

A hand slid down his chest. 

 

“Just fuckin’ kiss me.” 

 

Cass scowled and pulled his hands back, but didn’t move away. “I don’t like brats, Dean. You can either ask nicely or I can sit back down and we can sit in silence for the rest of the evening. It’s your choice, I can’t force you to behave. I won’t.” 

 

He weighed his options, although the scales were unfairly tipped in favor of doing whatever the hell he had to do in order to get this guy to touch him. 

 

On one hand, this was the same guy that made ignorant ass assumptions about him and his upbringing. The same one that wouldn’t even lower himself enough to  _ speak  _ to him the first time he came to Lafitte and Novak and got lost looking for Sammy’s office. 

 

But, on the other hand, he was here. Here, and solid, and beautiful and offering Dean something he’d never had but fantasized about more than once. And he could have it, then walk off this elevator and never look back. Come up with excuses anytime Sammy told him to come here. Find a new lawyer.

 

“Should I assume your silence means no, or are you still contemplating?”

 

Another quick shake of his head. “No, not uhh… done contemplating.” 

 

“Well? I don’t like being kept waiting.”

 

He clenched his fists at his sides, entirely unsure of how any of this worked and if he was even allowed to touch him or not. “I want…” he licked his lips. “I want you to kiss me, Castiel. Please?” 

 

Cass fucking hummed like he’d been waiting all night for Dean to ask. “See? I told you your mouth was big enough. I love the way my name sounds on your tongue. I wonder how it tastes?” Stalling. He was stalling. 

 

Dean knew enough about control to know he was being baited. Tested to see if he’d break, or if he’d simply wait to receive what he’d asked for. 

 

He waited. 

 

Cass gasped so quietly he barely caught it over the storm. “You really are perfect, Dean. You’re exactly what I want. What I’ve wanted for so-,” he cut himself off as his lips met Dean’s, and slowly,  _ slowly  _ Dean’s fists uncurled in favor of resting themselves on Cass’s sides.

 

It was all tentative, exploratory, hesitant - like neither was sure if this was happening out of actual desire or just fucked up circumstance.

 

By the time Cass’s tongue flicked across Dean’s bottom lip and pressed for entrance, Dean decided he no longer gave a shit what it started as. 

 

He wanted this, wanted Cass, in the way he wanted very few things in this life. 

 

But unlike most of the things he’s wanted… this? This he was actually going to get. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more to go, thanks for sticking with me through this 😬🙌🏻


	8. Hour Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the idiots still fight but good things happen.

**_Castiel:_ **

 

He tasted exactly the way Castiel thought he would. Smokey, like a summer barbecue - not an ashtray. Hints of cinnamon the way one would pepper the spice over a freshly baked apple pie. The bitter tang of whiskey masked the true depths of the other, more preferable flavors, but Castiel didn’t care. He’d have him sober soon enough.

 

He hadn’t realized until that exact moment how much he actually needed to touch Dean. At some point during these trapped hours, it had surpassed want and ventured into territory that Castiel had been afraid to even look at.

 

But now? Dean’s breath was hitching as Cass’s hands slid under his shirt and yes, those were Dean’s fingers digging into his sides and hooking into his belt loops.

 

“Tell me you want this.”

 

Dean answered by using his grip on Castiel’s pants to spin them around and slam him against the elevator wall.

 

“You’re a real dick, y’know that?” And yet, Dean’s mouth found Cass’s again and chased his retort away with an insistent, delicious tongue.

 

He spoke between quick, desperate, filthy kisses. “And you’re an arrogant child masquerading as a grown man, we all have our shortcomings.” Cass knew that in order to do what he really wanted, Dean needed to trust him. That obviously wasn’t the case yet and would likely take some time, but Cass was nothing if not a patient man. Until Dean trusted him enough to let his guard down, Cass would do this Dean’s way.

 

Which, turned out to be borderline violent.

 

Dean’s knee slid up between Cass’s legs and pressed against his balls in a way that might have been painful had he not been so far gone.

 

Cass tugged almost cruelly in Dean’s hair, pulling his head down to better meet Cass’s.

 

Buttons snapped on Cass’s shirt as those hands he’d fantasized about on more than one occasion ripped the expensive fabric out of their way in search of bare, heated skin.

 

There was nothing hesitant about it now. No exploring, just conquering. Two men trapped in an elevator with three years of tension finally exploding right alongside the raging storm outside.

 

Except - the storm had calmed. The thunder Cass was hearing was inside of his own head, his heart beat hammering away and pumping blood and adrenaline and _desire_ through his veins.

 

“How many trees did you have to hug to get that shirt?”

 

The remnants were pushed off his shoulders and fell forgotten on the ground.

 

“How much of the ozone layer burned off simply because of _your_ car?”

 

Dean growled, and it might’ve been the hottest sound Castiel had ever heard. “Hey, Baby’s a classic. She wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

 

Dean had stopped touching him. Cass’s eyes opened to see him looking honestly offended. He tilted his head. “Did I touch a nerve?”

 

“I’d rather you touched a different nerve, Cass.”

 

Cass smirked. “How about a bundle of nerves? Would you like it if I pulled those _tight_ little jeans down and fucked your _tight_ little ass right here?”

 

He didn’t think he’d ever get sick of making Dean blush. He could posture all he wanted to, but the truth was written across every expanded blood vessel in his gorgeous face. Dean Winchester wanted to be dominated.

 

And Castiel was more than happy to oblige.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thursday will be the conclusion, BUT I'm still tossing around the idea of continuing it, let me know!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of Part 1!

**_Dean :_ **

 

He’d never been fucked before. He done plenty of it himself, but he’d never allowed someone else to do it to him. So why, why did one glance into Castiel Novak’s blue fucking eyes make him want to bend over and finger himself open? 

 

“Dude, this elevator could be fixed any damn minute.” Where he found the clarity and presence of mind to point out that particular fact, he’d never know. But he latched onto it like a lifeline. 

 

“Do you care?”

 

Cass’s hands kneaded their way over tight, tense muscles and suddenly all of that  _ presence of mind  _ he had just been praising himself for was suspiciously fucking absent. 

 

“Uhh…”

 

The look Castiel gave him was equal parts possession and amusement, if such a combination was even possible. Like he thought it was funny that with a few short words threaded over an octave too low to ignore, Dean forgot how to fucking  _ English.  _

 

_ “ _ It’s an excellent thing that working on cars doesn’t require one to be overly articulate. Do I make you nervous, Dean?” 

 

The last question was asked like a challenge, not an attempt to get an actual answer. Dean noticed. Dean’s dick  _ definitely  _ noticed, not that it was having trouble paying attention this evening. 

 

Paying attention,  _ at  _ attention… what’s the difference?

 

Dean cleared his throat, half-wanting to try and steer this back to a direction that didn’t involve him literally getting bent over and railed in the middle of an elevator at his brother’s workplace and half actually begging for it. It was an internal battle that was terrifying him. 

 

Sex shouldn’t be this complicated.

 

Cass must have noticed the abrupt shift in Dean’s demeanor, because he stepped forward slowly and brought his hands gliding up Dean’s body until they were resting fully on either side of his face. 

 

Dean nearly buckled from the intensity of the way Cass was looking at him, but steady swipes of Cass’s thumbs over his cheekbones pushed all of the tension right out of his body. 

 

“You don’t have to answer that, Dean.” More solid, deliberate brushes. “I don’t ever want to make you uncomfortable.” 

 

The dude was a fucking magician. His eyes drifted closed and he carefully let out the breath he was entirely, painfully aware he’d been holding. 

 

“I’m okay, Cass. Want this… want you. Just not here.” 

 

The admission caused the air around him to shift. It became lighter, more welcoming. Cass’s lips ghosted over his so lightly that Dean actually opened his eyes again to see what the problem was. 

 

Cass was grinning. “Are you ready to go? The doors opened about five minutes ago.”

 

“They - what?” Dean turned, and sure enough - the elevator was lit normally and the doors were wide open. His ears picked up the sound of quiet, cheesy jazz music and he wondered how he missed all of that happening. “Right, uhh… no. I knew that, of course I knew that.” 

 

Cass’s hand slipped in his. “As interesting as this has been, I think I prefer a  _ different  _ kind of elevator music. Maybe you’ll oblige me back at my place? If you don’t have other plans, that is.” 

 

Dean’s eyes flicked between Castiel’s. “I think I can clear my schedule.” 

**END OF PART ONE**    
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of Part One! Stay tuned, there might not be another update for a couple of weeks but Part Two will come, and we’ll get to some of the good stuff we skipped over here. Drop your thoughts and suggestions for part two!


	10. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to part two, where our favorite idiots finally leave the elevator.

**_Castiel:_ **

 

The walk out of the elevator was clumsy and awkward - all bare, sweaty chests and arms full of half empty bottles. Cass scanned the ground floor and noticed it was mercifully empty. 

 

“I’m assuming everyone went home hours ago, even if they chose to continue the celebration without power.” 

 

Dean headed towards the door and nudged it open with his hip. He remained silent and didn’t hold the door open for Cass. 

 

“Dean, are you angry with me?”

 

Pursed lips accentuating narrowed eyes met him as they stepped out onto the night-dark street. “I’m not  _ anything  _ with you, man. We’re outta the elevator, you can drop the act.”

 

Cass furrowed his brows. “Act?”

 

“Yeah, the one where you pretend like you give a shit about me.”

 

Dean kept walking. Cass hurried to keep up as he attempted to fix his shirt. “It wasn’t an act, Dean. Why would I lie about being interested in you? That doesn’t make any sense.”

 

“No,” Dean stopped walking and whirled to face him, “what doesn’t make any sense is a guy like you givin’ a guy like me the time of day. You’re rich, hot, obviously fuckin’ smarter than me and  _ clearly  _ well-adjusted. I’m a mess of a mechanic that didn’t even own  _ jeans  _ nice enough to come to this god damn place tonight. Let’s just call it what it is and move on - you like my pretty face but that’s about it.”

 

When Dean resumed walking, Cass ducked in front of him and blocked Dean’s path to his car door. “You don’t get to decide what interests me about you. You keep reminding me that I don’t know you - but you don’t know  _ me  _ either. I already told you that personality means more to me than looks. We’re free of the elevator, and yet - here I am.” 

 

Cass’s heart was pounding, this was the hardest he’d fought for anything not directly related to his career in longer than he could remember. He wasn’t even sure  _ why,  _ but something about Dean Winchester made him want to step out of his comfort zone until he got what he wanted. Dean just shook his head and deposited the remaining alcohol into the trunk, then circled back around in front of Cass. 

 

“You gonna get outta my damn way so I can go home?”

 

Cass blinked but stood his ground. The words nearly died in his throat thanks to quickly mounting anxiety, but he forced them out. “Go on a date with me. A real one. I’ll take you anywhere you’d like to go.”

 

Dean’s eyes flicked between his and then down to his lips. Cass licked them slowly, self-conscious under the obvious scrutiny. 

 

“No.”

 

And just like that, all bravery Cass had mustered in the elevator disappeared. His body stiffened and his hands curled into tight little fists until his nails were digging into his palms just to keep him grounded. 

 

“I understand. I apologize for… all of this. Have a good evening, Mr. Winchester.” Cass’s eyes dropped to the ground and stayed there as he skirted around Dean and walked as quickly towards the parking garage as his reluctant feet would take him. He’d hoped Dean would stop him, or change his mind, or do  _ anything  _ other than get in his car and drive away, but the sound of a car door slamming and a powerful engine revving to life told him all he needed to know. 

 

After three years and what Castiel believed was honest progress, he’d lost his chance with Dean. 

 

He ran back over their conversation in his mind as he climbed in his own vehicle and started it up. As he drove, he made mental notes of all of the places he’d gone wrong - all the times he insulted instead of complimented, the way he cornered Dean when he was clearly uncomfortable instead of letting things naturally progress. The assumptions he’d made that were not only ignorant but outright disrespectful. 

 

By the time he pulled into his apartment building and dragged himself from his car and up the stairs, he was in the sort of headspace he’d spent years in counseling and solitude attempting to escape. 

 

_ This is why you’re alone. This is why Samuel wouldn’t tell you anything about him, he knew all you would do is hurt him. You were forward and pushy and assuming, no wonder he reacted poorly. There was no trust built, no base connection to build from. Thank god those doors opened when they did and nothing else happened. You could have seriously damaged him.  _

 

He set his things down and kicked off his shoes before picking up his phone to check his messages. There were a few from his coworkers asking if he was okay during the storm, and one from his eldest brother Michael. He ignored his coworkers, but Michael wasn’t the sort of person you just brushed off. 

 

He took a moment to pour himself a glass of wine before calling. 

 

“Castiel, I’m glad you called.”

 

“It’s nearly 4 am, Michael. Why are you still awake?” He took a long sip and closed his eyes, mentally preparing himself for the worst. 

 

“Someone from your firm called me to ask if I’d heard from you because you hadn’t shown up to… whatever it was you were supposed to show up to. It’s unlike you to be late to anything, let alone to simply not arrive at all.”

 

He sighed. “I was trapped in an elevator during a particularly bad storm that knocked out our building’s power. I’m assuming Samuel called you, although if he’d simply looked in the parking garage he’d have seen my car. I’m fine, Michael, but I appreciate you checking on me.”

 

“How long were you trapped?” His brother’s voice was suddenly alarmed. “Are you well? Did you have your inhaler?”

 

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I wasn’t alone, I was okay. I had the beginnings of a panic attack when I realized the elevator had stopped, but as I stated, there was another person with me that helped.” 

 

“Castiel, after what happened to you as a child -“

 

“Stop.” Cass’s voice dropped to the most convincing tone he could muster. “I’m well aware of what transpired. This was different. I’m fine, although I’m exhausted. I’ve been conscious for nearly 24 hours and would appreciate getting some sleep.”

 

Michael’s voice softened to a level that Castiel rarely heard. “Will you call me when you wake up? I have a few days off and was going to come visit.”

 

The  _ last  _ thing Castiel wanted or needed was his overbearing, pompous brother coming to visit and dissecting his mental state. “I’ll call you.”

 

“Get some sleep, Castiel.”

 

“You too.” He hung up and tossed his phone across the room, then belly flopped on the bed and buried his face in his pillow, still fully dressed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, couldn’t wait. There likely won’t be any delay in this one 😂


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean works off some steam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some unexpected smut.

**_Dean:_ **

 

He ignored traffic laws entirely on his way back to the little apartment he occupied over the shop he owned.  _ Sam owns,  _ he mentally corrected himself. 

 

_ You don’t own anything but daddy issues and this car. And even that you didn’t earn, it was handed to you.  _

 

Sammy called him for the eighth time since his phone picked up service again, so Dean finally answered. 

 

“Sammy, call off the hounds, alright? I’m good. Had a bit of an electrical mishap in the damn elevator, I swear to you I wasn’t tryna bail.”

 

“Dean, I didn’t think you bailed. I saw your car, we searched the whole building twice for you. One of my coworkers was missing too. I’m just glad to hear you’re alright.”

 

“Yeah, your buddy Novak was stuck in there with me.”

 

He could fucking  _ hear  _ Sammy stiffen. “How’d - how’d that go?”

 

“It went fi- y’know what, no. Fuck that guy. I’m happy he stuck his neck out for you or whatever, but seriously, that guy’s a grade-A bag of dicks.” He pulled into the spot in his garage where he kept Baby to show her off to potential customers and slammed the door a little too hard as he got out. 

 

“Oh, c’mon, Dean. Cass is good people, you just need to get to know him.”

 

“Dude - I was stuck in a friggen elevator with the guy for like 7 hours. How much better do you want me to get to know him?”

 

“I don’t know, Dean. What happened?”

 

“Nothin’ man, can we just change the damn subject?” He trudged up the stairs and entered his apartment. “You really still awake cuz you were worried about me?”

 

“Of course I was worried, Dean. I didn’t know where you were. That storm was insane.”

 

“Yeah, tell me about it. Dickbag almost had a fuckin’ heart attack when the elevator stopped. Must suck bein’ such a pansy.”

 

“Dean, stop, seriously. Castiel isn’t a pansy, he just gets really nervous in tight spaces.”

 

Dean mumbled something under his breath about  _ tight spaces,  _ but returned his voice to normal in order to say, “Yeah, whatever. Dude was friggen lecturing me about how I shoulda taken the stairs -  _ from the fucking elevator that he was on too,  _ I might add.” 

 

Sam chuckled. “He really pissed you off, huh?”

 

Dean sank down onto his couch and kicked off his dress shoes. “He’s pushy and rude, you know I hate those kinds of people.”

 

“I’m sure you guys just got off on the wrong foot, that’s all. I’m sure things will go smoother next time.”

 

“Hell no, there won’t be a next time. The fucker asked me out after spending 7 fuckin’ hours tickin’ me off, I shot that shit down right away.” Dean shook his head at the way his stomach flopped at the realization that he  _ had  _ actually said no, but it was too late anyway. 

 

“Wait, he asked you on a date? Do you like him? Why’d you say no!”

 

“For fuck’s sake, Sammy, I don’t have to say yes to every person that asks me out, alright? I’m allowed to say no. I was  _ right  _ to say no, there was no other freakin’ answer  _ but  _ no.” He winced at how unconvincing he sounded, but Sam was probably too tired to notice. Sure enough, his brother sucked in a breath like he was going to fire off more questions Dean didn’t have answers to but seemed to switch course, letting out a defeated huff before continuing. 

 

“Okay, Dean. Whatever you say. Anyway, I’m gonna hit the hay - now that I know you’re safe, I’m wiped.”

 

“Yeah, alright. Hey - one more thing… you really let that jackass call you  _ Samuel?” _

 

There was an audible eye roll. “Yes, Dean. He’s a colleague, and he was also my superior for quite awhile. He could have called me Sammykins for all I cared.”

 

Dean snorted. “Sammykins? That’s a new one, I’m gonna have to file that one away.”

 

“Don’t you dare.”

 

“Oh, Sammykins. Get some sleep, and punch that self-righteous douchenozzle in the face for me the next time you see him. Make sure you tell him how  _ responsive  _ he is when you do it.” Dean grinned to himself at the mental picture and completely missed Sam’s response. 

 

“Huh?”

 

Sam sighed. “Nothing, Dean. Get some sleep, okay?”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Night bitch.”

 

“Goodnight, jerk.”

 

The line disconnected and Dean set his phone down in favor of rubbing his face with both hands. 

 

_ Can’t believe that fuckin’ guy. Who the hell does he think he is, anyway? Who just starts talkin’ to fucking strangers about BDSM?  _

 

The conversation played out in his mind, and yet again his dick gave an involuntary twitch at the sound of Castiel’s voice in his head. He hadn’t even noticed himself hardening, but he was definitely at half-mast. 

 

He kept his eyes closed and pressed his palm down over the growing bulge in his jeans.  _ This is kinda fucked up, but screw it. I’ll take what I can get.  _

 

He unbuttoned his pants with a quick movement and carefully unzipped them. He slid a little lower onto the couch until his ass was nearly hanging over the edge and his feet were firmly planted with his legs spread apart. He let his mind wander freely as he palmed himself under his jeans but over his boxers. 

 

_ Cass caging him against the back of the elevator. Flushed cheeks so, so close to his - close enough he could smell the crisp fucking cologne he was wearing. His heart thundering in his chest as Cass’s smooth, perfect hands found his skin.  _

 

He rolled his hips to increase the friction and sucked in a breath. He imagined Cass’s hands roughly pulling down his jeans and boxers, so his own hands followed suit until he was fully exposed to the cool air of the apartment and standing fully at attention. He licked his palm as he imagined Cass doing the same and then wrapped his spit-slick fingers around his cock and stroked once, Cass’s voice in his mind urging him on. 

 

_ So hard, so responsive, Dean. So good, just for me, aren’t you? I bet you’re going to cum for me, right in this elevator, aren’t you? Will you do that for me? _

 

Out loud, Dean choked out an affirmative as his grip tightened and his thumb brushed teasingly over his slit. 

 

_ “Good boy, Dean. Let me take care of you, let me show you how good you really are. Do you want my hand to move faster, or would you prefer that I drew it out? Teased you and edged you until you were  _ **_begging_ ** _ me to let you cum in my hand?” _

 

“F-faster.” And faster his hand went, twisting and coaxing him closer to the edge as his other hand moved down to play with his balls. His thighs were straining to hold his hips up - at some point, he’d sunk down even lower on the couch and his ass was now fully off of it, but he was too far gone to care. He imagined Cass’s soft hands sliding up and down his pulsing cock, whispering praises and encouragement until he was so close to exploding that holding the fantasy in his mind was getting difficult. 

 

He focused harder on keeping that elevator clear and Cass’s voice in his ears. He was now jerking himself roughly with only precum for lube, but there was more than enough of that. 

 

_ “So beautiful, Dean. You’re close, aren’t you? Cum for me, Dean. Cum for me in this elevator, let me feel you let go in my hand.” _

 

He imagined a muscled forearm pinning him to the wall as his hand -  _ Cass’s  _ hand, once more tightened its grip and picked up speed. Dean was gritting his teeth to stop the moans that were threatening to spill from his lips, but he couldn’t hold back anymore. 

 

With a loud cry and a convulsion that nearly landed him on the floor, Dean came onto his stomach to a chorus of Cass saying  _ good boy  _ over and over again in his mind. 

 

He was panting and sweating when he finally dropped his hand, and righting himself was a struggle. His knees were weak and his mind was sluggish, but he couldn’t deny that he felt better. Acknowledging that he wanted that - wanted to be under someone else’s control, at someone else’s mercy - it felt good, even if it was something he’d never tell anyone else. 

 

He didn’t have to. This could be something he reserved just for himself - for late nights when his other fantasies just weren’t cutting it anymore. He’d remember Cass in that elevator with his sex-soaked voice and his perfectly bossy demeanor, and he’d have a damn good orgasm. 

 

And maybe some day in the far distant future, he’d let himself have something similar to it in person. 

 

Maybe. 


	12. Chapter 12

**_Castiel:_ **

 

The following Monday at work was possibly one of the worst days he’d ever had. He lost one of his longest-standing clients to a competitor, he was nearly late to a deposition, and he’d realized entirely too late that the tie he’d put on that morning clashed horribly with his shirt. 

 

It didn’t stop there. He was taking a short sustenance break when someone knocked on his door. 

 

“Come in, its unlocked.”

 

Samuel Winchester walked in and sat down like he belonged in the chair normally reserved for clients. 

 

“So, I hear you met my brother.”

 

Cass grimaced. “I’m sorry, Samuel. I didn’t mean to offend him.”

 

Sam laughed. “I think  _ offend  _ might be an understatement. I’ve never heard him so flustered, it was actually sort of adorable.”

 

“As I stated, I apologize. I respected his decision and left him alone.”

 

Sam looked confused, but he cleared his throat and steeled his expression. “Do you… uhm… do you like him?”

 

Heat blossomed in Cass’s cheeks. His hands moved awkwardly over his desk - picking up pens, moving them two inches, and setting them back down. “I understand why you didn’t tell me anything about him. You were correct not to, it would seem he wasn’t interested and all I managed to do was make him uncomfortable.”

 

Sam shifted in his seat, no longer looking so at ease. “You didn’t answer the question, Cass.”

 

_ Could this get any worse? What does it matter? “ _ Yes, Samuel. I  _ was  _ very interested in your brother, but I know when to take a hint. Particularly when that ‘hint’ is actually just the word ‘no.’”

 

It was Sam’s turn to blush, which only made the redness in Castiel’s cheeks worse. “Ask him again.”

 

His eyes snapped to Sam’s. “What?”

 

“Look, I don’t - I don’t really want to know what either of you do in your spare time, especially not with each other… but I know my big brother. Ask him again. He has a hard time accepting it when people actually care about him. He needs to know you mean it and it wasn’t just a result of…” he swallowed thickly and tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair, “ _ whatever it was  _ that happened in that elevator.”

 

He licked his lips. “Are you sure?”

 

Sam’s exasperated sigh echoed through the room. “Can we not make this weirder than it needs to be? Dean gets hit on all the time, and it normally doesn’t even register to him. I can tell just from the way he was talking about you - which was incessantly, by the way - that he’s wondering what would have happened if he said yes.”

 

He knew he shouldn’t push it, but he was too curious not to. “What’d he say?”

 

Sam gave a quiet, forced laugh. “It was almost entirely insults, but it was the way a little boy would tease a little girl on the playground. And it was never ending, he obviously couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

 

“I can’t stop thinking about him either.” The admission was quiet, but he knew Sam heard him. “Truth be told, he’s been on my mind for years.”

 

Sam tilted his head. “Why’d you wait so long?”

 

“I asked you about him but you refused to divulge any information. I assumed not only that you didn’t approve, but possibly that he’d told you directly that he he wasn’t interested.”

 

“He asked about you too. I didn’t say anything because I assumed one of you would eventually just hit on the other one, I was just trying to stay out of the way. I’d only been here for a couple of years and didn’t want to rock the boat.”

 

Cass was still trying to find his words when Sam stood up and slapped a business card on his desk. “Just call him, okay? Take him somewhere you can see the stars and just… see what happens.” 

 

“I’ll think about it.”

 

————————

 

It took him three days to work up the nerve to actually call him. The business card looked like it’d been abandoned in his pocket for years; bent and worn from all of the times Cass had looked at it. He’d dialed the number dozens of times, but it wasn’t until Thursday afternoon that he’d actually worked out the courage to use it. 

 

He nearly hung up after the second ring, but before his fingers could react appropriately to that urge, Dean answered. 

 

“Dean Winchester, what’s your damage?”

 

“How far back would you like me to go?” Cass realized immediately that he should have kept that comment to himself, but it was too late.

 

“Uhh… I guess start with the most recent? What’s the make and model?”

 

He squeezed his eyebrows together. “Is that some sort of metaphor?”

 

Silence. 

 

“Dude, do you need a car fixed or what? I’m kinda on the clock here.” 

 

How it never occurred to Cass that this was a work number was beyond him. 

 

“Oh. Oh! Um, no, actually… this is Castiel. Novak. Castiel Novak. We… met in an elevator.”

 

“Yeah, I know who you are, but thanks for the refresher. What do you want?”

 

His heart was pounding almost painfully in his chest. “There’s an… event at the planetarium this weekend involving the constellations. I was wondering if perhaps you’d like to join me.”

 

More silence. 

 

“Dude, you just don’t quit, do you?”

 

“No, um… not usually.”

 

“Sammy put you up to this?”

 

He chewed on his lip, unsure whether or not he should lie. “He urged me to call you, yes, but… he certainly didn’t force me to. I want a chance to apologize for my behavior the other day.”

 

“Yeah, you were kinda a dick. So this ain’t a date, right? More like… an apology outing?”

 

His heart sank. “If you prefer to call it that, then yes.”

 

“Alright then. Whatever the earliest show is Saturday, I’ll meet you there for it. I gotta get back to work.” 

 

The line disconnected before Cass could respond. 

 

_ Okay. It’s not a date, but it’s something.  _

 

_ And something is better than nothing.  _


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Dean finally calls it what it is.

**_Dean:_ **

 

As Dean got dressed Saturday morning, he silently cursed himself for agreeing to go at all. _An apology outing?_ _What the hell kinda bullshit is that?_ He groaned as he took off yet another shirt that didn’t look right, tossing it onto the floor to join the others. _Dude, what do you even care? He’ll probably show up in a goddamn tux just cuz he can, there’s nothin’ you can put on that’ll even get you two playin’ the same damn sport let alone in the same league. Just fuckin’ pick something._

 

He chose a dark green and black flannel and the same jeans he’d worn the day he got stuck in the elevator, since they were the nicest pair he owned. He buttoned and unbuttoned the top of the shirt half a dozen times before growling at his reflection in the mirror and just leaving it alone. He grabbed his phone, keys, and wallet and set out to his car. Thirty minutes later, he was arriving at the planetarium and sweating like a whore in church.  _ It ain’t a date. This isn’t a date. You are not on a date. You say it enough different ways yet?  _

 

He stood near the queue and looked around for Castiel. He nearly missed him in the sea of people because he had actually been looking for a puffed up d-bag in a tux, but instead, Cass was wearing a simple grey v-neck sweater and a pair of jeans not unlike his own. Cass went for dress shoes where Dean stuck with boots, but other than that, he was surprised to notice they didn’t look all that different. 

 

Cass spotted him and walked over with a smile. “Hello, Dean.”  

 

“Yeah, hey. We gonna get this over with or what?” 

 

Cass frowned but nodded, turning on his heels to pay for their admission tickets. Dean nearly insisted they go Dutch, but the whole point of this was so Cass could say sorry for being an ass - which meant he was footing the bill. 

 

They entered the theater and took their seats. Dean fidgeted as Castiel attempted to make small talk, but the conversation never really got going because Dean couldn’t get out of his own head. Every time he made eye contact with the man, memories flashed in his mind of alarm-lit, lust-blown pupils in the hot, condensed space of that elevator. Every brush of skin or bump of their knees set his teeth on edge and had him so distracted that he missed Castiel’s question entirely. 

 

“Huh?” 

 

“I was asking you if you’d ever been outside the city, such as to a place where the stars are truly visible. You’re from Kansas?” 

“Oh.” Dean nodded as the lights finally dimmed. “Yeah, grew up there. Seen the stars loads of times.” 

 

Cass’ response was drowned out by a low, deep voice as the presentation began. The room became pitch black as the voice began explaining asterisms, which was basically just another damn word for constellation. “Chance groupings of stars that resemble familiar patterns,” he’d said. One by one, the theater lit up with constellations he’d heard of, and some that he hadn’t. The fuller the “sky” became, the wider Dean’s eyes got. They learned about the history of constellations and how several of them got their names, but Dean had stopped listening. He was mesmerized by the way the stars appeared without light pollution. Even in Kansas, they hadn’t been  _ this  _ clear. 

 

He was acutely aware he was being stared at. He tore his gaze away from Centaurus to look at  Cass, and he was struck dumb by how well the man’s eyes fit in against a back drop of stars. Cass’s face flushed noticeably even in the dark. 

 

Twenty minutes later and Dean was so engrossed in what was happening above his head that he didn’t notice when Castiel took his hand. In his distracted mind, it seemed like such a natural occurrence that he didn’t do anything but lace their fingers together and crack a smile. 

 

The presentation moved away from specific formations and focused on where they were most visible in the world. Over and over again, Dean’s breath caught in his chest as the views blocked out absolutely everything else. Occasionally, Cass squeezed his hand or leaned over to whisper something in his ear. These movements, the background music, the lulling tone of the narrator’s voice combined with the view of a million stars loosened something in Dean. He was reminded - not of how small he is, like he’d expected - but that he’s a part of something much, much bigger. The narrator quoted Eckhart Tolle: “You are not  _ in  _ the universe, you  _ are  _ the universe - an intrinsic part of it. Ultimately you are not a person, but a focal point where the universe is becoming conscious of itself.” 

 

That hit home. It humbled him and filled him with pride threatening to burst from his skin all at the same time. The lights came back up and people started shuffling out of their seats, but Dean stayed where he was - hand clasped tightly with Cass’s. 

 

“Are you okay, Dean?” 

 

He looked over at Cass, all wide, innocent blue eyes and flushed cheeks. He nodded, and was surprised at how soft his voice was when he spoke. “Yeah, yeah, Cass. I’m okay.” 

 

Cass beamed. “Good, but we… need to go. They’ll want to get the theater ready for the next presentation.” 

 

Dean frowned in such a manner that Cass excused himself, claiming to need to use the restroom. Dean figured he just didn’t wanna be around someone that was pouting, and frankly he couldn’t blame him. He pushed himself out of his seat and double-checked that he had everything he came in with and then exited the theater to head back to the main lobby. He stood by the restrooms for a moment and when Cass didn’t come out, he ducked inside.

 

“Cass? Hey, I think I’m gonna head out, okay?” 

 

Silence. 

 

“Cass?” 

 

He pushed open a couple of the stall doors and realized the bathroom was completely empty. His heart did an involuntary somersault down to his toes, causing him to take a moment near the sinks. He studied himself in the mirror, noticing the way his five o’clock shadow was just this side of scruffy and how it framed his face. It somewhat muted his jawline, but he’d always gotten away with it because people seemed fucking fascinated by his lips. By Dean’s standards, they weren’t that special. His teeth were too close together in the front and his top lip thinned out too much when he smiled, but he made up for it with the dimples that appeared when he frowned or bit his lip. His eyelashes crossed too many times and his eyes were alarmingly green, but again, he’d found ways around that. A slight quirk of an eyebrow made his expression intense enough to match the color and hardened his features into something more socially deemed handsome. He didn’t see it - but he knew others did. Cass certainly had, although it seemed like one look beyond the hard lines of his body to the man underneath had sent the guy running. He hadn’t even thought he’d done anything wrong. So yeah, he got a little too into a science thing. He wasn’t a nerd -  _ Sam  _ was the nerd. This was Cass’s idea anyway, and wasn’t showing interest in other people’s hobbies and shit supposed to be a good thing? 

 

He came to the inevitable conclusion that Cass must have just realized that they didn’t belong in the same galaxy. It was fine, Dean knew it from the jump. So what if Cass realized it, too? Wasn’t it better that they got it outta the way now? Dean shook his head at his reflection and gently smacked the glass with his palm.  _ Get over yourself, Winchester, this wasn’t a date. Just go home.  _

 

He turned away from the mirror and opened the door to find a very flustered looking Castiel. 

 

“Oh! Dean! I was afraid you’d left.” 

 

Dean squinted at him. “I thought  _ you  _ left. You said you needed to piss, but you weren’t in here.” 

 

Cass grinned sheepishly. “I… might have lied. I um… well... “ he trailed off and brandished two tickets. “I thought you might want to see it again.” 

 

Dean stared blankly at him for a second. “Huh? You - you got… really?” 

 

Cass nodded. “If you don’t want to, I can see if they’ll exchange them or return them.” 

 

“No!” Dean snatched the tickets from Cass. “Yeah, i wanna see it again. With you. As like… as like a date this time.” 

 

Cass grinned wider. “Then let’s go, it starts in ten minutes.” 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Dean finally calls Cass out for a misconception.

**_Castiel:_ **

 

After the second showing, Dean’s stomach was growling too loudly to be ignored. There was no way Castiel wanted this day - this  _ date  _ to be over, so he’d insisted on buying Dean a late lunch. 

 

They’d chosen a quiet little diner not far from the planetarium, and Cass was pleased that it was mostly empty. He wasn’t worried about anyone seeing him with Dean, but he knew Dean was still mildly uncomfortable for some reason and didn’t want to push that further. 

 

They ordered food and settled into easy conversation. Cass tried to avoid the topics that had gotten him in trouble in the past, but he could tell something was beginning to bother Dean as he sat there and angrily stabbed at his plate. 

 

“Dean? Talk to me. What’s on your mind?”

 

Dean just shook his head. “Nothin’, man. I’m fine. You about done eating?”

 

Cass looked at his half-empty plate and nodded slowly. He wasn’t done, but there was no reason he couldn’t take the rest of it to go if Dean didn’t want to be there any longer. “Sure, Dean. We can go.”

 

Dean stood abruptly, the motion upsetting the silverware laid across the plates. He disappeared into the restroom and Castiel took that opportunity to pay the bill and box up the remainder of his food. He was standing by the door when Dean finally came out, and the two headed silently to Dean’s car. 

 

“You can… just take me back to the planetarium. I can get a taxi from there.” 

 

“Nah, don’t sweat it Cass. I can take you home, it ain’t a big deal. You paid for all of this, least I can do is play chauffeur for a bit. Where do you live at?”

 

Cass internally grimaced. He knew Dean hated the financial distance between them, and going to Castiel’s apartment when Dean was already clearly agitated by something sounded like a horrible idea. Not seeing another option, he gave Dean his address and sunk back into the seat. 

 

They drove in silence, unless the endless repeat of Led Zeppelin songs counted. They eventually arrived, and sure enough - Dean’s eyes darkened at the sight of the massive apartment building Cass lived in. His particular suite was large enough that it might as well have been a house. 

 

Cass glanced over at Dean. “Would you like to come in? I have some wine, and there might be a few beers left from Benny’s last visit.” 

 

Dean shifted in the driver’s seat but didn’t shut the car off. “If I do, I can’t stay long.”

 

Cass’s hopes rose. “That’s okay - I won’t keep you.”

 

Dean hesitated but nodded and shut the car off. “Yeah, alright. Maybe just for a beer.”

 

They got out of the car and took the elevator up to Cass’s floor. This fact might have been inconsequential, but the dual flashbacks invading their minds made it anything  _ but.  _

 

Cass wasn’t prepared when the elevator stopped three floors early. His breath hitched and for a split second, he was afraid that he’d have another panic attack. 

 

But the door slid open, and a young couple boarded the elevator. The doors slid shut once more and they were moving - not stuck; simply stopping to let additional passengers on.

 

Cass swallowed hard.  _ Relax. You’re not stuck, not again. It’s fine. You’re fine.  _

 

The doors opened once more and Cass gestured for Dean to follow him out. He quickly unlocked the door and let Dean inside. 

 

“Whoa.”

 

Cass smiled lightly at Dean’s awe. “I suppose being a lawyer can have its advantages, particularly when you’re perpetually alone with no children or pets.”

 

“Not even a dog, huh?” Dean shifted his gaze over the room as Cass shut the door. 

 

“No. I rarely spend time here, it would have been unfair to get a dog. I briefly considered getting a cat, but… they’re just this side of too sassy for me.” 

 

Dean tilted his head back. “Seriously? Cats are too much for you?”

 

Cass shrugged as he leaned backward against his kitchen counter. Dean helped himself to a beer, which struck Cass as odd but also… right. “I attempted to tell you, Dean. I don’t prefer brats, and that extends well beyond the bedroom.”

 

Dean snorted. “Yeah, I hope you keep cats outta the sack. I can put up with a lotta weird shit, but I’d have had to draw the line there.” He took a long sip of his self-served beer and licked the excess liquid from his lips, which drew absolutely all of Castiel’s attention. 

 

Dean noticed, and set the beer down on the counter. He cleared his throat. 

 

“Dean? Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

 

“Nah, it’s fuckin’ stupid.”

 

Cass frowned. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

 

A long silence followed as Dean seemed to steel himself. “I can’t help but thinkin’... it’s kinda funny how you’re so choosy but you suck at reading people.” His eyes were on the floor, and it would have taken an idiot not to notice the way his fists were clenched. 

 

“What do you mean?” 

 

“Me, I mean me. You said me and Sammy are so different and it must be how we were raised, right? Well, jokes on you.  _ I  _ raised Sammy. My mom died six months after he was born and my dad went on a two decade long bender before he finally kicked the bucket too. So you can say what you want about all that nature versus nurture bullshit, but I did a damn good job with Sammy and no one - I mean fuckin’  _ no one  _ \- is gonna tell me otherwise.”

 

Cass was silent for a moment as he internally reeled from Dean’s tone. He was so defensive, so adamant that Cass had to wonder how many times Dean Winchester had been told he was inadequate. He mentally kicked himself for adding to that tally. 

 

“Dean… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed. You were right, I truly don’t know anything about you. Losing your mother and having a worthless father must have been nearly unbearable on its own, but having the added responsibility of raising a child when you were still one yourself must have been… well, it must have been awful. You should be immensely proud of yourself.”

 

Dean bristled, the compliment hanging awkwardly in the air between them as if he were reluctant to accept it despite his own insistence that he deserved it. “Didn’t do it for pride, I did it cuz Sammy deserved better.” 

 

Cass nodded. “He did, and you obviously provided that for him. Samu-  _ Sam _ is an incredible human being. He’s kind and understanding, but forceful when he needs to be. He’s a pitbull for his clients and a shoulder to cry on for his friends. I’ve never met someone with a bigger heart. If you had anything at all to do with that - and it sounds like you had  _ everything  _ to do with that, then  _ I’m  _ proud of you.”

 

Dean’s jaw clenched and he choked back what sounded suspiciously like a sob. His shoulders slumped as if all the tension in his body just bottomed out and left him for dead. Cass became suddenly afraid that Dean would fall straight to his knees, so he quickly closed the gap between them and wrapped Dean in a hug. 

 

Both of them stiffened. Dean didn’t seem to know what to do, and Cass was dumbfounded by his own level of comfort with this near-stranger. To say he had a touch aversion would be an overstatement, but he’d never been one for much physical contact outside of sexual relations. And even then, he kept it at a minimum. 

 

Cass was frozen. He didn’t want to let go and he didn’t want to stay where he was, which left him suspended in indecision. After what seemed like a hundred years, Dean sucked in a breath and then strong, muscular arms pinned Castiel in place.

 

Dean’s voice was so soft Castiel wouldn’t have been able to hear it from where he’d been standing just moments before. “No one’s ever told me that before, ‘cept Sammy.” 

 

Castiel’s heart shattered, then the tiny, broken pieces melted entirely to pool at their feet. “I’m so sorry, Dean. I’m sorry I misjudged you. I’m sorry this world has been so,  _ so  _ cruel to you.”

 

“‘Snot your fault, Cass.” 

 

Castiel pulled back from the hug just enough to look Dean in the eyes. Neither of their hands moved an inch from where they were desperately clinging to the other. “I know it isn’t my fault, Dean. But… if you’ll allow it, I’d like to make it my responsibility to fix it.”

 

Dean’s eyes narrowed and his grip on Cass loosened. “I don’t need fixed.”

 

Cass shook his head and pulled him back into the hug. “Don’t misunderstand me, Dean. There’s nothing wrong with you. I’d simply like the opportunity to help you see that, and to try and make up for some of the unkindness you’ve suffered.”

 

“‘Snot your  _ job _ , Cass.”

 

He pulled back again, running his thumb under Dean’s eye. “I’m aware, you stubborn,  _ stubborn  _ man. I’m telling you that I’d very much  _ like  _ it to be my job, if you’ll let me.”

 

“Like some kinda guardian angel?” Dean sounded skeptical, and every inch of his body was taut. 

 

“Angel, friend… something… more.” He flicked his eyes between deep green eyes and willed himself to continue. “I’m willing to give whatever you’re willing to take, Dean.” 

 

It took several agonizing seconds for the small, feeble smile to break out across Dean’s face. “Angel, yeah. Guess I could use one of those.” He dropped his forehead down so it was resting on Cass’s, and Cass closed his eyes as Dean continued. “And maybe the other shit, too.” 

 

Cass hummed. “I’ll take good care of you, Dean.”

 

Dean’s breath ghosted over his neck as he tightened his grip. “Y’know what,  _ angel? _ I think I might actually believe you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you guys it'd happen eventually! :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is decidedly NSFW.

**_Dean:_ **

 

He forced himself to go home before he did something stupid. Or, at least he tried. He wanted to, if that counted for anything. He wanted to be responsible and go home and sort through this shift in dynamic before anything happened between them, but… that’s not what actually happened. 

 

What  _ actually  _ happened was Dean held on for dear life in that hug until Cass tried to pull away, and then Dean kissed him in an attempt to keep him close. Cass’s lack of hesitation only egged Dean on, and before he knew it, his hands were fisting around the fabric at the bottom of Cass’s shirt. “ _ Off _ .” 

 

Cass stiffened and Dean opened his eyes to see Cass quirking an amused eyebrow at him. “As much as I would love to finish what we started in that elevator, don’t you think we should… wait?” 

 

Dean’s eyebrows pinched together. “Wait for what, the damn apocalypse?” 

 

Cass’s thumb brushed across Dean’s bottom lip, sending a chill down his spine. “No, Dean. I hardly think it’ll take the end of the world to find us in bed together, but I’ve sensed your hesitation from the beginning. I simply want to make sure you’re comfortable enough first. I would hate to rush things.” 

 

Dean fought a groan as a familiar, unpleasant feeling built in his chest. “Cass, not for nothin’, but I’m givin’ you a damn green light here - you sure you wanna turn me down?” 

 

Cass ghosted a kiss over his lips. “May I see you again tomorrow?”

 

Something kicked inside of Dean that felt eerily similar to a car backfiring. He knew, standing here right now, that he wanted Cass. But he also knew his own mind. Twenty four hours might not seem like a lot to most people, but to Dean it was black hole of time in which he’d almost definitely lose his nerve. No, this needed to happen - and it needed to happen  _ now.  _

 

“Cass, please.” Dean bit his tongue in an attempt to stop himself from outright begging, and he decided to let his hands do the talking. Well, his hands, and that perfect mouth everyone was always going on about. His fingers dug in to warm skin at Cass’s hips as his even warmer mouth found a spot on Cass’s neck that made him twitch.  _ Fuckin’ bingo.  _

 

Cass’s body went taut and Dean was sure he was about to pull away, but strong hands grabbed his hips and spun him around, pushing him roughly until he was fully bent over Cass’s kitchen table. The sudden movement sent the pepper shaker spilling onto the ground, and after a split second of trying to get up, he realized Cass was pinning him to that table. Hot breath hit his neck as he felt Cass lean over. “Are you quite sure about this, Dean? I’ve been called many things, but  _ gentle  _ isn’t one of them.” 

 

Dean’s stomach flipped and scattered to the corners of his body.  _ Hell fuckin’ yeah.  _ “I’m sure, Cass.”

 

“ _ Castiel.”  _

 

“Huh?”

 

“If we’re going to do this, you will address me by my full name. Do you understand?” 

 

The heel of Cass’s palm dug into Dean’s shoulder as Dean nodded. “Yeah - uhh, I mean yes, Castiel.” 

 

“Good boy.”

 

Dean tried to stop the sound that came out of his mouth, he really did. He failed miserably, and it earned a throaty chuckle from Cass. 

 

“Now, Dean. We haven’t had the chance to have this conversation properly, so I’m going to rely on your instincts in the moment. Are you capable of telling me your level of willingness based on color? For example, if you’re fine with proceeding, you would tell me your color is green. If you’re unsure and I should go slower or be more cautious, your color would be yellow. If you want me to stop what I’m doing entirely and switch to something else, it’s red. If you’d prefer we stopped altogether, you would need a safeword.”

 

Dean was pretty sure he got all that. “Yeah, Cass. Shit - I mean, yes, Castiel - green, definitely green, and uhhh… fuck a safeword, but if I gotta have one or else you’ll stop or some shit - I pick Poughkeepsie.”

 

Cass hummed and nipped gently at Dean’s neck. “Are you comfortable like this?”

 

He took a moment to assess. It certainly wasn’t a bed, and he had a feeling after awhile the wood would start digging into places it shouldn’t be digging into - but there was no way in Hell he was gonna say no and risk Cass stopping. “Yea- yes, Castiel.” 

 

“Good. How do you feel about being tied up?”

 

A red flag went off in Dean’s head. “Uhh - guess it depends with what.”

 

“Silk ties? They would suffice and should be fairly comfortable for you.”

 

Dean didn’t miss how low Cass’s voice had gotten. It was making it hard to concentrate on the simplest shit, let alone what he’d like to use to be tied up. “Uhh- green.  _ Castiel _ .” 

 

“Stay.”

 

Dean’s body went rigid at the command and he listened closely as Cass’s footsteps retreated to a part of the house he hadn’t been to yet. He could feel his heartbeat against the table, a thundering, panicky thing quick with nerves and apprehension but also  _ need.  _

 

Too long of a stretch later, Cass returned with what looked like two actual silk ties. Dean eyed them and kept his face as neutral as possible. 

 

Cass smiled warmly at him. “You didn’t move.”

 

He closed his eyes. “You told me to stay.”

 

“Yes, but you  _ listened.  _ I wasn’t sure that you would. Stand up please, I’d like to kiss you before we get started.”

 

Yeah, it was weird. Cass was talking about this like it was some kinda business transaction, but damnit if it wasn’t at least a  _ little  _ hot. He stood, letting his back stretch out and his muscles pop as Cass pulled him into another kiss. Cass worked quickly to secure one tie to each of Dean’s wrists as his mouth continued to claim Dean’s, and almost too soon for Dean’s liking he was bent back over that table. 

 

“Color?”

 

“Green.”

 

Each of the ties were wrapped around a leg of the table, stretching Dean completely out over it like a fucking Thanksgiving dinner. He already felt exposed and he was still completely dressed - and that was a fact that sent heat straight to his cock.

 

He didn’t stay dressed for long. Cass spent a few moments kissing his body through his shirt, and then a hand was at his waist and unbuckling his belt and jeans. The fabric slid down, and Cass’s tongue followed their path down his bare thigh. 

 

He shifted to help Cass remove his shoes, and then his jeans and boxers were gone entirely. He was actually exposed now - the cool air of the apartment chilled his skin and calmed his nerves.  _ You still have the option to just leave and not come back, there’s no need to fuckin’ panic. This is gonna be awesome. _

 

Hands roved over his skin. “Have you ever cum untouched, Dean?”

 

_ Huh? “ _ Have I ever what now?”

 

Cass let out an amused hum. “I didn’t think so. You might not here, either… but I’ve always enjoyed a challenge.” The words left Cass’s mouth and then Dean’s soul left his fuckin’ body as he was spread open and a hot, thick tongue traced a line that split him in two.

 

His breath hitched and he nearly slammed his chin off the table. 

 

“Color?” Another sweep of that glorious fucking tongue. 

 

“Gr- shit! Green!”

 

Cass pulled back. “Try again, Dean.”

 

His mind was already reeling from the loss of just that little bit of contact. He huffed a steadying breath and evened out his tone. “Green, Castiel.”

 

“Hmm. Better.” This time, that tongue pressed for entrance and was followed by something thicker, more solid. Cass crooked a single finger inside of him, and damnit if that single motion didn’t feel better than any of the times he’d done it himself, even with dildos. He never told Cass this was going to be his first time, but it didn’t seem like something that needed mentioned. Within moments, he was hard and aching pressed up against the table. His cock was pinned between his body and the wood, but it was a damn nice table and the friction was welcome as Cass continued to methodically and perfectly work him open. 

 

It didn’t take long until Dean was a panting, squirming mess. 

 

“Do you think you’re ready for me, Dean?”

 

The three fingers Cass now had buried inside of him shifted to brush against his prostate, which punched an affirmative moan straight from Dean’s lungs. 

 

“I asked you a question. If you can’t answer, we don’t need to continue.”

 

Dean’s body was on fire in all of the best ways. He’d always sucked at asking for things he wanted, but this? With Cass? Saying  _ yes, Castiel  _ seemed like the most normal fucking thing in the world, and so he did.

 

Dean’s arms strained against the ties binding him to the table as Cass kicked his legs apart further and withdrew his hand. He heard the familiar sounds of a condom wrapper being ripped open and a lube cap being flipped, and he was nearly shaking by the time Cass started pressing his -  _ holy fucking Hell he’s huge -  _ cock into him. 

 

He balled his fists around the ties and the fabric strained under his grip. Cass gently rubbed Dean’s back as he inched further in, gasping little praises each time he pulled back to thrust a little deeper. 

 

It was heaven, despite the initial pain that ricocheted through his body like sparks off a downed power line. He was awake - fully awake - for what might have been the first time in his entire life. He, Dean Winchester, had actually managed to give up control to someone else - and the result was something he wanted to replicate a million fucking times. 

 

“Color?” The word was barely audible over the sounds of Dean’s own soft, needy moans, but Dean somehow heard them enough to respond  _ green  _ for what felt like the hundredth time. Cass bottomed out at the word, and he stayed where he was - all labored breathing and featherlight touches - until Dean himself started to move. It was hesitant at first, the way you’d drive an unfamiliar vehicle carting around precious cargo like a loved one or a freshly baked pie that might overturn if you took a corner too fast. He rolled his hips experimentally, felt the way Cass’s cock stretched him open and filled him completely. Before Dean knew what was happening, the discomfort was gone entirely and Cass was roughly fucking him into the table. 

 

Cass’s fingertips left tiny, precious bruises in Dean’s hips as he set a relentless pace. Dean lost himself entirely in the warring sensations of Cass inside of him and his own leaking, abandoned cock getting overly acquainted with where Cass eats his fucking meals. That thought alone nearly sent Dean over the edge, and it seemed like somehow, Cass knew it. 

 

“You’re perfect, Dean. You’re beautiful, so…  _ so  _ tight… everything I ever want— shit, Dean - don’t cum yet, please… I’m - I’m not done with you.” 

 

Cass’s wrecked voice was an unfair thing to pair with a cock like that. The two dominated every single one of Dean’s senses until he thought he could  _ taste  _ how bad Cass wanted him to hold off - so he did. Without direct contact other than cloth placement on the table, it wasn’t as hard as he thought to fight his orgasm. He was surprised and maybe even a little proud of himself for that, until Cass’s length started repeatedly hitting that little bundle of nerves that sent electricity exploding through his body in a way that woulda made fuckin’ Tesla proud. 

 

His nails scratched the surface of the table and he bit down on his own arm to try and distract himself from the mounting need to cum all over Cass’s dinner table.

 

“Please, Cass -  _ Castiel!  _ Fuck, please - I can’t - I’m not gonna -“

 

“Cum, Dean. Cum for me,  _ now.” _

 

It was over. Cass’s hips stuttered as he filled the condom inside of Dean, and Dean covered Cass’s fucking placemat.  _ Who even uses fucking placemats anymore? _

 

The moments that followed were a blur of soft kisses planted on Dean’s skin and the overwhelming feeling of emptiness as Cass pulled out to get rid of the condom. Dean was grateful for the fact that he was bound to something, because he sure as hell didn’t trust his own legs to keep him upright. After a blissful period of near sleep, he felt something warm and wet cleaning him up and then his arms were released. Cass half picked him up off the table, and then that enticing little five o’clock shadow was bristling against Dean’s neck as Cass pulled him close and bore most of his weight. 

 

“Cass, that was…”

 

“Come, Dean. Come lay down with me.”

 

“Uhhnnmmn.”

 

Cass must have correctly taken that as a yes, because Dean’s mostly limp body was being guided towards a room off the main hallway. Cass gently laid him down on the softest damn bed he’d ever been on, and then a warm body was flush against his own and he was being covered with a blanket. 

 

Cass kept planting soft little kisses over the back of his neck and shoulder. “Dean, color?”

 

“Is there uh… a color greener than green?”

 

Cass hummed. “Your eyes, perhaps. But no, for the purposes of my question, green will suffice.” 

 

“Yeah, that then. Super fuckin’ green. All the damn green in the world.”

 

Cass’s fingertips traced lines over his skin, and Dean rapidly sank into sleep - but he was pretty sure he heard Cass say one more thing before unconsciousness won out: 

 

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welllll that’s not how that was supposed to happen, but much like this fic as a whole - this chapter had a mind of its own. See you Sunday 🤗


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday, everyone!

**_Castiel:_ **

 

 Dean ended up staying until Monday morning. He fit in Castiel’s life already in ways he hadn’t anticipated. The early morning shuffle for coffee, showers, and toast seemed even more natural with Dean stopping him every few minutes to steal a kiss or brush his fingers over the bare skin of Cass’s back. When it was time to leave to go to work, Cass nearly called in. 

 

“Dean.” 

 

Dean mumbled an answer, which was about the best Cass could hope for seeing as how Dean’s lips were preoccupied on Cass’s neck. 

 

“I need to go. And so do you, we’re already late.”

 

Teeth nipped at shower damp skin. “So what?” 

 

Cass grinned and pulled back. “Dean. You can come back after work, but I need to go. Your brother might start asking questions.” 

 

That seemed to be the magic phrase, because Dean almost immediately shut down. Cass watched as he gathered his things and headed towards the door. “Yeah, about that. What uhh… what do you plan on tellin’ Sammy?” 

 

Cass licked his lip. “I suppose that depends on you. He’s your brother, I’m under no obligation to tell him anything at all.” 

 

“Yeah, then uhh… don’t. I’ll deal with Sammy, alright?” 

 

He nodded. “Of course, Dean.” 

 

The shift in the air was palpable, and Cass regretted bringing Sam up in the first place despite the fact that it was a conversation that needed to be had. He walked to Dean and put a hand on his back. “Dean? It’s okay. Honestly, this is new for both of us. There’s no need to tell anyone anything yet if you’re not comfortable with it.” 

 

Dean turned his head and smiled just enough that the corners of his lips turned up. “Yeah, Cass. I got it. And for the record, it ain’t that I’m not comfortable with it - I just uhh… y’know. Guess I wanna make sure you ain’t gonna run away before I start tellin’ people.” 

 

Once again, Cass’s stomach clenched. “You’re not inadequate, Dean. And I would like the opportunity to argue for the prosecution of anyone that’s ever made you feel that way.” 

 

Dean quirked an eyebrow. 

 

“I’m not a fighter.” Cass grinned sheepishly. “My… altercations take place in a courtroom.” 

 

Dean chuckled. “Alright, alright. I’ll tell Sammy soon, okay? And I'll see you after work.” 

 

Cass relaxed and kissed Dean. “Good. I’ll see you tonight then.” 

 

Dean bit his bottom lip and nodded as he backed out of the door. 

 

“Dean, you might want to be careful - there are st- “

 

It was too late, Dean’s heel slipped off the landing and he lost his balance, stumbling backward down a couple of stairs before catching himself. Cass had rushed forward to grab him, and after a moment of slightly panicked breathing, they both broke out into laughter. “See? That’s what you get for trying to seduce me.” 

 

Dean shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Nobody saw that.” 

 

Cass’s grin nearly split his face. “I did.” 

 

Dean spent another moment looking at Cass like he wanted to say something else, but simply kissed him and dashed down the stairs out to his car. Cass grabbed his briefcase and keys and set off towards work with a smile on his face that just wouldn’t fade. 

 

\----------------------------

 

Cass was in his office researching precedence for one of his cases when Sam Winchester knocked on his door. 

 

“Come in.” 

 

 Sam stepped into Cass’s office and ran a hand through his hair. “So? How’d it go?”

 

Cass did his best to keep a straight face, looking like the picture of innocence. “I’m sorry, Samuel. You’ll have to be more specific.”

 

“Oh come on, Castiel. My brother drops off the face of the planet for two days and just  _ happens  _ to resurface at the same exact time you show up to work -  _ late,  _ for the first time since I started here?” Sam scoffed with a grin. “You can’t expect me to believe that was a coincidence.” 

 

Cass cleared his throat. “Well, I can’t speak to what your brother was doing, but I was late for a common reason. I drank a little too much last night and needed a couple of extra hours to sleep it off.”

 

“You were  _ drunk.”  _ Sam’s expression lent itself to incredulity, which Cass understood - for the entirety of the time they’d known each other, Cass didn’t think he’d ever mentioned having so much as a beer let alone drinking too much. Benny Lafitte occasionally came over for a beer or two, but Sam wasn’t Benny. 

 

“Yes, Sam. I had a few too many glasses of wine and wasn’t used to it. It happens.” Cass wanted to tell Sam the truth - to gush about how he finally got through to Dean and how they’d spent thirty-six straight hours locked inside of Cass’s apartment getting to know every inch of each other - but he promised Dean that he wouldn’t. “It had nothing to do with your brother.”

 

“So… you  _ don’t  _ want to see him again?”

 

“I didn’t say that.” 

 

Sam inclined his head. “No, but you may as well have. You’re pretty adamant about this.” 

 

Cass rubbed his eyes. “Samuel, I really need to get back to work. If there’s nothing else…”

 

“Of course, right. Sorry to bother you.” Sam pursed his lips and offered a little wave as he left the office, and Cass leaned back in his seat. He pulled out his phone and opened his texts with Dean, sending him a quick one that briefly explained the conversation he had with Sam. 

 

Dean didn’t respond for nearly four hours. Cass was beginning to suspect that he’d done or said something wrong, even though he’d adhered to their agreement and hadn’t told Sam a single thing. He assumed that Dean was likely just busy, and therefore instead of texting him again or trying to call, Cass simply got up and decided to take a walk. He needed some books from the firm’s library anyway, so he straightened his tie and walked out of his office. 

 

Halfway down the second hallway, he stopped dead in his tracks. Dean was walking towards him with an armful of what looked to be dirty paperwork in his hand. Cass was torn between saying something and trying to duck into the shadows to avoid him entirely when Dean looked up. “Hey!” 

 

Cass opened his mouth to respond when someone else answered behind him. 

 

“Dean, what happened?” It was Samuel’s voice, of course it was him, why wouldn’t it be? Cass felt his face flush from the misunderstanding, and he stepped to the side.

 

Dean glanced at him but otherwise offered no acknowledgment that Cass was even there at all. “Yeah, Sammy, I’m good. Just another dickhead tryna blame me cuz he blew out his fuckin’ clutch. Dottin’ the I’s and crossin’ the T’s, y’know the drill. You got a minute?” 

 

Sam looked to Cass and then back to Dean, and Cass realized too late that he probably should have kept walking. “I’m sorry, I was just… headed to the library. I hope everything’s okay.” 

 

“No, no… it’s fine, Castiel. As a matter of fact, maybe you can help. Come on, Dean. I’m sure we’ll find something. Go with Castiel, i need to have Charlie clear my schedule for the afternoon and I’ll meet you in there, okay?” 

 

Dean sputtered as he looked between them. “You - I - why don’t I just come with  _ you? _ ”

 

Sam smirked so subtly that Cass might’ve missed it if he wasn’t staring right at him. “What’s the matter, Dean? Does my coworker scare you?”

 

Dean made an exaggerated  _ pshh  _ noise. “No.”

 

“Alright then. This might take awhile, I was supposed to have a meeting at four o’clock and if he’s already here I won’t be able to reschedule, so you’ll just have to wait until it’s over. Cass’ll take good care of you, right, Cass?” 

 

Castiel swallowed. “Of course, Samuel. I’ll… yes. Okay.” Sam winked and turned to walk back towards his office, and Dean clenched his jaw as his eyes met Cass’s. 

 

“Dude.”

 

“I didn’t say a word, Dean, I swear it. I told you the details of our conversation.” 

 

“Yeah, but you’re like… the world’s  _ worst  _ friggen liar.” 

 

Cass sighed. “Come on. The library’s this way.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can anyone guess what’s coming next? 😉 😂


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a little bit of inevitable subdrop at the end of this, which will continue on to the following chapter. It’s not horrible and I promise it leads to good things, but there’s your warning. 🖤

**Dean:**

 

_ Yeah, okay. Like i haven’t had  _ **_this_ ** _ fuckin’ fantasy 1800 times.  _ Dean sat down at a small table in the corner of the firm’s library and eyed Cass. His hair was ruffled and there were faint shadows forming under those ice blue eyes, like Cass was exhausted. Hell, he might’ve been - they didn’t exactly devote a lot of time to sleep over the weekend. 

 

Cass’s eyes flicked to Dean’s over the top of the huge book he was skimming. He tilted his head and gave Dean a questioning  _ why are you staring at me?  _ kind of look, and Dean’s face flushed. He sunk a little lower in his chair as he shook his head, and Cass fucking smirked before disappearing again behind the book. 

 

Dean tapped the table with his fingers to the tune of a John Bonham drum solo. He kept his eyes peeled for Sam, but a loud buzz of his phone on the table alerted him to a text from him. 

 

**_He showed, gonna be late._ **

 

Dean let out a small sigh and Cass peered over the top of the book once more. Dean mouthed his brother’s name and dragged a flat hand across his neck in what Dean hoped was a discernible “he ain’t comin’” motion. 

 

Cass looked around and pulled out a piece of paper and pen from his briefcase. After scribbling something down, he slid the paper over to Dean. 

 

_ I’ll help. Can you tell me more about what the issue is so I know what I’m looking for? _

 

Dean put the end of the pen in his mouth as he thought about how best to summarize the issue. 

 

_ Jackass says I fucked his car up and I didn’t. This happens every few months, Sammy usually just makes a list of reasons the dude can’t sue me and I’m on my way. I brought all the damn paperwork that shows exactly what I did vs what he’s sayin’ I did, and I didn’t even work on the part of his car that malfunctioned. _

 

Cass reread his words a couple of times before responding. 

 

_ Then what’s the issue? Would you like me to speak with whomever it is? Surely this wouldn’t involve much persuading.  _

 

Dean’s face flushed. It was one thing to have his brother fight his battles for him, but another thing entirely to let Cass do it. He wasn’t a fan of either plan, but he went to Sam anytime issues like this came up because he couldn’t stand the thought of underestimating an issue that could cause him to lose the shop Sammy bought for him. 

 

_ Nah, I’ve been down this road enough times I think I can handle it. Go ahead and do whatever you were gonna do, I’m just gonna wait for Sammy to wrap up so I can say bye.  _

 

Cass nodded and didn’t respond, he simply tucked the page back into his briefcase and resumed whatever the hell he was doing before the interruption. 

 

Dean sat in relative silence for a few moments before his fingers started playing drums on the table again. His knee brushed against Cass’s, but if he noticed, he didn’t show it. Dean stretched, letting out a tiny little groan that he was  _ sure  _ Cass would hear - but nope, the fucker didn’t even flinch. Dean licked his lips as Cass flipped the page, cracked his neck and rested his leg against Cass’s - and nothing. Not a single indication that Cass even remembered Dean was there. No matter what he did, he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering to what would happen if he just… pulled Cass between the rows of books. After another ten minutes of being ignored, he decided to find out. He stood up slowly, attempting to use the drawn-out movement to catch Cass’s attention even though nothing else seemed to work. 

 

It didn’t work either. Dean cleared his throat, which drew an angry glare from one of the paralegals Dean actually recognized. He waved apologetically and gave up on trying to reach Cass, but he was up now and it would look suspicious and stupid if he sat back down. He made his way over between two shelves of books and walked to the end closest to the wall.  _ At least it’s dark over here, maybe I can just fuckin’ hide until Sammy comes back.  _

 

He pulled a heavy book from the shelf and pretended to look it over. He could see the words, read them even, but didn’t understand a damn word of the random paragraph he’d chosen to read. 

 

A warm, solid hand clamped over his mouth from behind him. Dean’s gut reaction was to fight, but some little instinct inside of him told him he didn’t  _ want  _ to fight this. 

 

Cass’s voice was rough and low in his ear. “You’re a brat, you know that? Teasing me where I work.”

 

Dean nodded and grinned behind Cass’s hand, but his grin faded fast when Cass’s  _ other  _ hand found it’s way to Dean’s crotch and started palming him. 

 

“Hard already for me, Dean? Here, in public? Were you thinking about me?”

 

Dean nodded, closing his eyes and rocking his hips forward. 

 

Hot air filled the space between his ear and Cass’s face as he continued whispering things that threatened to pull Dean apart at the seams. “Did you hope I’d fuck you here? Follow you into these shelves and bend you over, fucking into you until you were crying from trying to hold back your moans and cumming all over the books my coworkers use?” Cass’s palm dug in harder and Dean tipped his head back. 

 

“Mmm.”

 

“Then let’s see how quiet you can be. It  _ is  _ a library, after all.” 

 

Cass kept Dean’s mouth securely covered as his other hand slowly and methodically unbuckled Dean’s belt and unsnapped the button on his jeans. Dean looked around half-panicked, half aroused by the mere thought of getting caught. 

 

Both of Cass’s hands disappeared from Dean’s body. He turned to find out what the issue was to find Cass pulling off his tie, a smirk evident on his face. Cass stretched the silk fabric out and raised his eyebrows suggestively. Somehow, Dean knew exactly what Cass wanted - and couldn’t fucking agree more. He pointed to a book with a green spine, hoping Cass would catch his drift. He must have, because seconds later, that tie was wrapped securely around Dean’s head and resting between his teeth. The silk didn’t taste the greatest, but Dean didn’t care. He was half undressed and gagged in the law firm where his fucking  _ brother  _ worked, full of people he knew and respected - and something told him he was about to be cumming in that library, too.

 

Cass resumed his position behind him and pressed a flat palm against his shoulders until he bent over and leaned against the shelf in front of him. He spread his legs as far as they would go with his pants now around his knees. He braced himself to feel Cass’s fingers stretching him open, but it didn’t happen. Cass was extending his long body over Dean’s and whispering in his ear again. “Shame on you, Dean. You thought I was actually going to fuck you here?” Cass’s hand wrapped around Dean’s fully erect cock and stroked once. “You should know by now that brats don’t  _ get  _ fucked. You’re lucky I’m allowing you to get off at all, but…” his hand sped up and Dean bit down hard on the tie, “I have to admit that the thought of you making such a pretty mess of yourself for me here is… enticing.” 

 

A thick bulge pressed against Dean’s ass, and it was the thought of how much their little public display was turning Cass on that finally made Dean let a moan slip out. It was quiet and muted from the tie, but loud enough that Cass let go in favor of digging his nails almost painfully into Dean’s hips. 

 

“ _ Don’t. Make. A. Sound.” _

 

Dean nodded quickly and squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the precum dripping down. His arms were shaking despite the fact that they weren’t doing much at all in the way of supporting his weight. He once again double tapped the book with the green spine and Cass’s hand returned, all brushing thumbs and twisting tugs that had Dean drooling all over the tie he couldn’t wait to see around Cass’s neck again. 

 

“Beautiful, Dean. I swear I could take you right now, and I  _ would,  _ but I want you screaming for me the next time I’m inside of you.” Cass’s free hand slid across his ass and spread him open, and he  _ finally  _ nudged a single finger inside of him. 

 

Dean begged himself to keep quiet, to be good for just a little longer.  _ So, so so fucking close - so fucking -  _

 

“Not yet, Dean.”

 

Dean’s teeth threatened to split the fabric of the tie that was ineffectively gagging him. The mental effort it took to stave off his orgasm was nearly impossible to muster, but he managed it. He didn’t usually get so close so fast, but then again, he’d never been with anyone like Castiel. Everything about him aroused Dean - from his eyes, to his fucking sex hair, his scent… the words that poured out of his mouth and sank right into his leaking cock. 

 

Dean heard the library door open and saw Benny Lafitte through the slim gap between the top of the books and the bottom of the shelf above them. He stifled a mix between a terrified gasp and a horribly turned-on moan, but Benny was walking  _ right fucking towards them.  _ Dean’s mind was sluggishly trying to remind him that getting caught wouldn’t be half as hot as it sounded, but Cass’s hands were drawing entirely too much of his attention to actually do anything about it. He now had a second, perfect finger working him open in the middle of that goddamn library, and every time Cass’s hand passed from the base of his shaft over the head and back again, Dean got closer and closer to not giving a shit if God himself walked in between their shelves. 

 

“Mr. Lafitte is almost here, Dean. Cum for me,  _ now.”  _

 

The tip of Cass’s middle finger brushed against his prostate and Dean fucking flatlined. The waistband of his boxers snapped audibly against his skin as Cass pulled them back up just as Dean came - hard and quick and not nearly as silent as he’d promised to be. The fabric in the front was soaked by the time Cass’s palm finished working him through it, and Cass looked at him the way a fucking predator looks at his evening meal. Complete fucking ownership was etched into every goddamn line of his face, and that alone nearly had Dean ready for round two before his cock even stopped pulsing from the first. 

 

By the time Dean got his shit together enough to fix his jeans and remove the tie, Benny was standing in between the shelves. Every head in the room had their eyes fixed towards the bookshelf he was hiding behind. He handed the tie back to Cass, and he was right - seeing the fabric back around Cass’s neck with Dean’s teeth marks and saliva all over it was fucking  _ hot,  _ hot enough that it didn’t even register to Dean that he’d effectively cum in his pants and would have to face an entire office building full of fancy ass lawyers - including his little brother - and one of them right fucking then. Benny’s eyes were wide and his face was flushed like he knew exactly what the hell he’d just walked in on. 

 

“Uhm… hello there. Mr. Winchester, I presume?” Benny’s Cajun lilt somehow brought Dean back to reality. 

 

“The one and only.” He spared a glance at Cass - who looked fuckin’  _ ecstatic -  _ and then cleared his throat. “Can I help you?”

 

Benny’s eyes lit up with the sort of understanding mischief that only comes with walking in on something inappropriate. “Your little brother wanted me to pass along a message that he’d be with you shortly, although… seems to me you’ve been well entertained.”

 

Cass tilted his head. “I was simply showing Dean some texts that might be beneficial to him in the future. I believe we were finished.”

 

Benny’s eyes travelled from the wet spot on Dean’s pants to Cass’s crotch, and so did Dean’s. Benny chuckled at Cass’s obvious boner. “Well, looks like  _ one  _ of you was finished. Sorry to interrupt. I’ll be on my way now.”

 

_ People know. People fucking know that you just got jerked off at your brothers work. What the fuck -  _ Dean rounded the corner of the bookshelf and ignored the looks he was getting as that little truth started working its way through Dean’s body. 

 

He grabbed his phone from the table he’d been sitting at and checked his messages. There weren’t any from Sammy, but it didn’t matter, no sooner did he lock his phone again that Sam walked through the door to the library. 

 

He motioned for Dean to join him outside, so he did - without sparing a glance for Cass. “How’d the meeting go?”

 

Sam grinned. “Landed another huge client. How’s the research?”

 

Dean swallowed. “Uhh, yeah. Great. Awesome. Just uhh… yeah, y’know… I think I got everything I needed.” 

 

Sam gave him that look that only little brothers could pull off. “Dean? You’re sweating. What’s wrong?”

 

The sweating immediately got worse, compounded on by the fact that Cass chose then to walk out behind them.  _ You just let him jack you off where your fucking brother works. Dude, what’s  _ **_wrong_ ** _ with you? Sammy can probably tell, you’ve got cum all over your fucking jeans. He worked his ass off to get where he is and you come in here and pull  _ **_this_ ** _ shit? There’s no way that Benny dude ain’t gonna tell him.  _ “Yeah, Sammy. I’m good, I think I’m just gonna go home. I’ll deal with Mr. Douche in the morning.” 

 

Sam’s eyes looked straight into his soul and saw every fucking dirty, gross secret there.  _ He knows. He knows and he fucking hates you for it; and he should. You should hate you for it.  _

 

“Okay, Dean. I’ll see you this weekend?”

 

Dean nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, man. Sounds good. See ya.” He refused to even look at Cass as he walked towards the elevators. The sight of them alone caused him to change course and take the stairs. 

 

_ Never riding in a fucking elevator again.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you nailed it. Some of you got real close. Anyway, happy Thursday😊


	18. Chapter 18

**_Castiel:_ **

 

Cass watched Dean go with a sinking feeling in his gut.  _ He’s dropping, and he doesn’t even realize it.  _

 

“I’m so sorry, Sam. Please excuse me, I need to go.” Cass ignored the confused look on his coworker’s face as he hurried towards the stairs and took them down two at a time. 

 

He reached the bottom and pushed the door open hard. “Dean?!” He looked around and saw Dean getting into the driver’s seat of his Impala. He yelled his name again and sprinted towards the car. “Dean, wait!” 

 

He wouldn’t look at Cass, but he  _ did  _ at least cease his movements and allowed Cass to catch up, his door still halfway open. “Please. Come back home with me, I’ll - I’ll make you dinner.” 

 

Dean’s jaw flexed. “I’m fine, Cass. I don’t need a fuckin’ butler.”

 

Cass’s voice hardened. “I wasn’t offering to be your butler, I was offering to cook you dinner.” 

 

“Fine. I’ll meet you there.” The car door slammed in Cass’s face and the engine roared to life, and Cass could do nothing but watch as the taillights left him behind. 

 

He hurried to his own vehicle and went as fast as he dared back to his apartment, where Dean was actually waiting - much to Cass’s surprise. He forced himself to slow his movements as he got out of his car and walked to Dean’s. The trip up to his apartment was stiff and silent, but at least Dean was with him. Experiencing sub drop alone could be a horrible experience, and Cass would be damned if he allowed it to happen to Dean. 

 

Cass shut the door behind him and turned to look at Dean. “What happened back there?”

 

Dean shook his head. “Nothin’.”

 

Cass let out a slow breath and closed the distance between them. “Dean, please. Don’t shut me out. I can help you… you just need to let me.”

 

Dean did that strange movement where he seemed to shrug using his mouth. “I told you, Cass. I’m good. Fucked up and twisted, but good.”

 

_ Ahh. “ _ You think there’s something wrong with you because of what you allowed to happen in the library.”

 

The movement only got more exaggerated. “Isn’t there? Sammy practically handed my life to me, and I repay him by lettin’ his boss jerk me off in the library where he does all his research, and to make matters worse we got fuckin’  _ caught _ ? That’s fucked up.  _ I’m  _ fucked up.

 

Cass pulled Dean into a hug. “I’m not his boss anymore, he’s my equal.” 

 

Dean tried to pull away, but Cass wasn’t going to let that happen. Not now. “Dean, listen to me. What you’re experiencing is sub drop, it’s entirely normal and it  _ doesn’t  _ mean there’s something wrong with you.” He pulled back to look at him. “Did you enjoy what happened while it was happening? Ignore the rest of it.” 

 

Dean’s jaw flexed but he ultimately nodded. “Yeah.” 

 

Cass let out a breath. They were off to a decent start, and while normally he’d prefer a bath or some sort of comfort in that respect, Dean didn’t strike him as the type to take solace in such things. He also wasn’t sure if Dean had ever had a glass of water in his whole life, so he opted for a beer. The glass clanged against another as he pulled it free from the fridge and twisted the top off. “That’s perfectly normal. You’re allowed to enjoy the things you enjoy, Dean. There’s nothing wrong with that.” He handed Dean the beer and retrieved one of his own, despite the fact that he couldn’t stand the taste. Solidarity seemed important in that moment. 

 

“It ain’t normal. Normal fuckin’ people don’t go around cummin’ all over law books in front of eight friggen people.” Dean took a sip and his shoulders visibly relaxed - it wasn’t nearly good enough, but it was a start.

 

Cass recognized the look of exhaustion on Dean’s face. “Come on. It was a long day and I’d like to lay down, will you lay with me?”

 

Dean seemed to mull it over for a moment. “Yeah, I can do that.”

 

Cass smiled sadly at Dean. He had a suspicion that if he’d ask Dean to lay down for any other reason, particularly the  _ real  _ reason, he’d have said no. Cass felt bad manipulating him, but he also hadn’t technically told a lie. 

 

The two made it to the bedroom and stripped down to boxers and T-shirt’s before crawling into bed. Cass slid in beside Dean and whispered, “will you lay on your stomach please?”

 

Dean didn’t answer, he just rolled over. Cass propped himself up on one elbow as his other hand started lightly tracing Dean’s spine and across his shoulder blades. “I hope this is as calming for you as it is for me. Feeling your skin under my fingertips - even through the fabric - it’s… grounding.”

 

Again, not a lie - but not exactly a truth, either.

 

“Yeah, Cass. ‘s great, but… you don’t have to do it. It ain’t like I earned it or anything.”

 

Cass’s hand faltered as the words sunk in. “Dean, please hear me. You do not have to  _ earn  _ my affections. I’m not that kind of dom, nor am I that kind of man.” His fingers resumed their path. “This, here? I like to touch you. I enjoy the heat radiating from your body and seeping into my fingers. I love the way your skin erupts in goosebumps when I hit a certain spot. It’s… comforting. I should be thanking you for allowing me to do it. For allowing me to do anything at all - touching you is a privilege, and I know that.”

 

Dean’s body tensed.  _ Okay, pull back just a little. This might be too much.  _ He leaned down and kissed Dean’s shoulder through his shirt.

 

“Why do you  _ care  _ so much?”

 

“About you in general or about your current mental state?”

 

“Either. Both. I dunno. Fuck it, nevermind. I need to go home.” Dean tried to rise and Cass gently flattened his palm between Dean’s shoulders to stop him. 

 

“Will you allow me to answer the question?”

 

Dean stayed frozen where he was and then laid back down. Cass took that as a yes.

 

“Thank you, Dean. They can be answered simply enough. I care about your current mental state  _ because  _ I care about you, and because I played a direct role in making you feel like this in the first place. I should then have a direct role in helping you.” Cass shifted so he was straddling Dean’s ass and started rubbing his shoulders. “I care about  _ you  _ because you fascinate me. At every turn, you’ve challenged my preconceived notions and reminded me that not everything is as it seems. That is a lesson I learned at quite a young age, but I think I forgot it somewhere along the way. You’re caring, and wildly intelligent despite what you portray yourself as. You’re quick witted and passionate, talented… and strong. You’re selfless to the point of it nearly being a tragic flaw. But it’s not, it won’t lead to your downfall, it leads to beautiful things - like your brother.” Cass fell silent for a moment and was relieved to hear that Dean’s breathing was evened out and his shoulders were finally starting to relax. He moved lower on Dean’s back, kneading the tense muscles. “I’m not a stranger to childhood trauma. Do you remember when we were trapped in the elevator and I nearly had a panic attack?” 

 

Dean grunted, which Cass took as a relaxed affirmation. 

 

“I’m adopted. My adoptive father - Chuck - he found me. He was a police officer in a small town in Minnesota when I was a child, and my birth parents were horrible people. They’d keep me locked in a dog’s cage in the basement when they’d leave the house, for parties or shopping trips - sometimes weeklong vacations.” Cass had never told the full story out loud, and he was afraid he’d lose his nerve if he focused too much on what he was saying. Instead, he focused on Dean. He dug his thumbs in and continued massaging his back. “I didn’t know if I would ever be rescued, and then my brother Michael managed to escape the house and go find the police. Chuck responded immediately, and we never saw our parents again. He adopted both of us, but to this day, any sort of enclosed space sends me back there. I  _ know  _ how easy it is to hate yourself for something that isn’t your fault. I know how… how easy it is to slip into a horrible mindset when all you want is to be happy - to be normal. I never want to make you feel that way, Dean. Sub drop is completely normal, but it can be avoided. If you weren’t truly  _ green _ earlier, you shouldn’t have told me you were. And when you started feeling differently, it would have been helpful if you’d have told me immediately.” He moved lower still on Dean’s back. “I would like very much to continue seeing you, but if you can’t trust me, this won’t work. I’m willing to put in whatever time and effort is necessary for that to happen. This… with you? It feels more right than just about anything else I’ve ever done, or anyone else I’ve ever been with. I’m willing to fight for you, Dean. Will you let me?”

 

Silence. 

 

“Dean?” Cass whispered. 

 

Nothing. Cass fell silent and realized that Dean was snoring faintly. He smiled to himself and gently rolled off of Dean to lay next to him. He wrapped one arm over Dean’s back and rested his cheek on Dean’s shoulder. 

 

He let out a breath and whispered, “I won’t hurt you, Dean.” 

 

And soon, he was asleep as well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is later than usual, I went to see a Led Zeppelin cover band last night and... oof. If there’s a rock and roll version of jet lag, I’ve got it. 🤘🏻


	19. Chapter 19

**_Dean:_ **

 

Dean was surprised how much better he felt when he woke up. It was clearly night still, there was no light coming in from the windows in Cass’s room. He rolled over to find Cass, but the bed was empty. His chest tightened and his mind began racing again with everything that had happened at Sam’s work that day. He was about seven seconds from going off the deep end again when he heard footsteps outside the door. It swung open quietly and Cass popped his head in. 

 

“Dean?”

 

“Yeah, I’m up.”

 

Cass’s feet shuffled quietly on the floor as he made his way to the bed. He sat down on the edge and handed Dean a mug. “Here. I’m sorry if I woke you, but I didn’t want to presume you’d want to stay the night again, so I went to make you a cup of hot cocoa.”

 

Dean smiled despite himself as he sat up. “What’s one got to do with the other?”

 

Cass tilted his head. “It would have been rude of me to wake you up and ask you if you wanted to leave - mainly because I’d prefer if you stayed. But if you  _ did  _ choose to leave, I wanted to make sure you got something in your system before you did.”

 

Dean took the mug and shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve had hot chocolate since I was a kid.”

 

Cass hummed. “That’s a shame, it tastes even better as an over-indulgent adult.” 

 

He wasn’t wrong, and the first sip proved it. “Damn, Cass. This was a good move.”

 

Another low, satisfied hum. “I know.”

 

They fell into silence as Dean drank, and it occurred to him that he hadn’t really answered the question. “Look, I don’t wanna intrude or anything. Give me a few minutes to polish off this mug and I’ll get outta your hair.”

 

Cass frowned and turned his head away. “As you wish, Dean.”

 

He wanted to stay, and he had a feeling Cass wanted him to stay - but that would be too many damn nights in a row. He had laundry to catch up on and… other things he was  _ sure  _ were important. “Thanks, Cass. For uhh… talkin’ me down earlier.”

 

Cass’s body shifted to face him in the low light. “I want you to trust me, Dean. That starts with you understanding that I would never intentionally hurt you in any way.”

 

Bits and pieces of the revelation Cass made before he fell asleep trickled back to him. “All that uhh… all that stuff you said about what happened when you were a kid. True?”

 

Cass nodded. “Yes.”

 

Dean slowly set the mug down on the table next to the bed. “C’mere.” He opened his arms and shifted to make room, and Cass laid down next to him. Dean wrapped his arms around Cass and rested his chin in the crook between his shoulder and neck. “I’m sorry that shit happened to you, and I’m sorry I made fun of you in the elevator. It was a dick move.”

 

Cass let out a sharp breath, and Dean tightened his grip. “It isn’t your fault, Dean. You didn’t know. I’m sorry I made assumptions about you.”

 

Dean kissed him right beneath his ear. “Then we’re even. Now can we quit apologizing and just go back to sleep?”

 

He knew he’d intended to leave. He’d regret staying when he had to wear cum stained jeans to work the next day, but he was finding it hard to give a shit in that moment. He  _ had  _ something with Cass, something he’d never had before, and he knew it. He wasn’t gonna leave when they were finally making progress. 

 

“You… want to stay?”

 

“Yeah, Cass. If you’ll have me.”

 

Cass’s body pressed back against his. “I’d like that very much.” 

 

Dean’s palm flattened out against Cass’s chest and he relaxed. His mind was calm for the first time in years - nothing mattered then but how fucking at  _ peace  _ he felt in that bed with Cass. That is, until a loud knock at the door jarred them both into sitting positions. 

 

“Cass? Who the f-“

 

“I don’t know, Dean. It’s nearly nine pm, I don’t normally get visitors.” Cass slid off the bed and searched around in the darkness for some sweatpants. He nearly fell over as he put them on, and the knocking continued. 

 

Dean’s anxiety rose for reasons he couldn’t place. Cass left the room, and a moment later he heard echoing voices coming from the living room. 

 

“... not a good time, Michael. I’m fine, I apologize for not answering your calls - it has been a very long day and I found myself sleeping for most of it.”

 

Another voice answered as Dean tried to place who the hell Michael was. A brother? An ex? Neighbor? 

 

“I’m worried about you, Castiel. Your behavior lately has been erratic.” 

 

Dean stood up and looked around for some pants, but he didn’t know Cass’s room well enough yet to find his way around in the dark and he couldn’t exactly put his jeans back on, so he double-checked that his junk was safely tucked into his boxers and crept towards the door. He had no idea who this Michael guy was or if he even knew Cass was gay, so he didn’t want to out him by making an appearance, but it sounded like Cass needed support. 

 

“I know, Michael, and I’d apologize, but I’m not sorry. I’ve met someone.”

 

Michael laughed, and it was low and almost mocking. “Very funny, Castiel. If you don’t wish to speak with me, I can’t force you - but there’s no need to lie to me.”

 

Cass’s voice was harder when he spoke again. “I’m not lying. I met someone, he’s the brother of a coworker.”

 

“Oh? What’s his name, then?”

 

Cass faltered over his words. Dean figured Cass was attempting not to out  _ him,  _ which was cool - but not necessarily. Everyone important in Dean’s life already knew he swung both ways. Dean took a deep breath and rounded the corner to the living room. 

 

“Name’s Dean, actually. Can I have my boyfriend back now, or would you like to sit there and call him a damn liar some more?” He put his arm protectively around Cass. 

 

“Boyfriend?!” Michael looked incredulous, but so did Cass. Dean swallowed hard; he hadn’t been expecting to have to double down on that particular word choice. He mulled it over for a second and came to the conclusion that Cass might as well be his damn boyfriend, and he’s definitely had worse “how’d you two start dating?” stories. 

 

“Yeah, man. You got an issue with that?”

 

Cass cut off whatever Michael was going to say. “Dean, this is my elder brother Michael. Michael… you’ve already been introduced to Dean.”

 

_ Brother - score - and now I friggen remember where I heard the name.  _ “Yeah, so uhh… if you wouldn’t mind, we were kinda in the middle of somethin’.”

 

Michael leveled a glare at him that actually made him nervous. Dean was a big guy, muscular and not a bad fighter, but Michael seemed like the type of guy that could smite someone with a glance. Like maybe he was trying to do that to Dean in that moment. “Castiel, I’m surprised you’ve chosen someone so…  _ outspoken.” _

 

Dean didn’t even want to contemplate what that meant. Cass simply shrugged, but his fingernails were digging into Dean’s back like he was trying to ground himself to reality using Dean’s spinal cord. “In other words, you’re surprised I found someone at all, let alone someone that will actually stand up for me?”

 

Michael fixed his gaze on Cass. “That’s  _ not  _ what I said.”

 

“Nevertheless…” Cass straightened up. “As Dean stated, we were in the middle of something. I apologize again for not answering your phone calls, and I promise you I will call you tomorrow and answer any questions you may have.”

 

Michael eventually relaxed. “Okay, Castiel. Just take care of yourself. I worry about you.” He nodded stiffly to Dean, who smiled almost smugly in response. 

 

Once Michael was out the door, Cass heaved a breath and sank down onto the couch. “He means well. He’s just… over protective.”

 

Dean chuckled, because he realized in that moment that he’d be the same as Michael if it were Sam in Cass’s shoes. “I get it, angel.”

 

Cass looked up at him. “Angel?”

 

Dean shrugged. “Yeah. Told you a long time ago you seemed like a guardian angel. Guess it fits.”

 

Cass stood from the couch and pulled Dean into a hug. “I love it.”

 

Warmth spread through his bones in stark contrast to the coolness of the apartment. “C’mon, Cass. Let’s go back to bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know I said I’d keep writing this forever, but Sunday is going to be the last chapter - at least for awhile. It’s already written and I think it’s a solid ending point, BUT if my life becomes less hectic and I think of a decent plot line to keep it going, I left it open enough that it’s possible - so stay subscribed to this one! Either way, I’ve got some ideas for oneshots coming up so you definitely haven’t heard the last of me. See you all Sunday for what is hopefully just the midseason finale 😉


	20. Chapter 20

**_Castiel:_ **

 

His conversation with Michael the next day had been every bit as horrible as he’d anticipated. It was full of condescending questions and ‘what-if’ scenarios that had Castiel’s head spinning by the time he finally managed to excuse himself and hang up. Michael had always been pushy, but he cared about Castiel in a way that most others didn’t. So, he put up with it - put up with _him_.    
  


Cass ate his breakfast in silence and was cleaning up the dishes when Dean rounded the corner. “Coffee?”

 

Dean made an appreciative noise and took the cup from Castiel to serve himself. Cass smiled as he watched, because something about Dean getting ready for work in  _ his  _ apartment and drinking coffee out of  _ his  _ mug just made… perfect sense. Like it was a thing that had always been routine, not something that just began a few weeks ago. It was natural and comfortable and beautiful. 

 

“You stayin’ late again tonight?” 

 

Cass grimaced and nodded. “Yes, I’ve got client meetings all afternoon, then a partners meeting, and then I  _ have  _ to get working on the Roman case. I don’t trust anyone else to do it.” 

 

“Yeah, I hear ya. Do you uh… I dunno. Maybe wanna get dinner tomorrow night if you’re not as busy?” Dean still looked like he wasn’t sure what the answer was going to be, which Castiel found both adorable and infuriating at the same time. 

 

“Of course, Dean. You’re not coming back tonight?” 

 

Dean shifted his weight from one foot to the other as his thumb brushed a ring over the top of the mug. “I uhh… wasn’t sure if you wanted me to or not. I’ve been here pretty much every damn night the last couple of weeks, and I know you’re gonna be tired and shit.” 

 

Cass stood from the table and stopped in front of Dean, barely containing the smile on his face. “If it were up to me, I think I’d just have you move in now. But it’s up to you, if you’d prefer a night alone, I certainly wouldn’t blame you.” 

 

Dean huffed a laugh. “Easy, tiger. We’ll see how the day goes, alright?” 

 

“Right, we’ll see how the day goes.” 

 

A quick kiss that turned into a long kiss later, Castiel was out the door and heading to work. The commute was mercifully short and he made his way to his office with a lighter step than usual. Whether or not Dean chose to stay, he’d been right - he’d somehow managed to convince Dean to stay almost every night for a fortnight, and that wasn’t something Cass took lightly. 

 

Thankfully, no one was waiting for him, and he still had a full hour before his first client meeting. He used the time to reorganize his desk, get his notes in order for all of his meetings, and take a few moments just to breathe before the madness of the day truly began. 

 

The first couple of client meetings were easy, the third was difficult, and the last was almost impossible to sit through. This particular meeting was with a potential client, not one already established with Castiel, but his reputation preceded him in horrifying ways. His name was Alistair Crowley, and he would have been entirely unknown to Castiel had it not been for the hours of news coverage Cass had seen of Alistair's previous trial. He’d been charged with sex trafficking but had been acquitted of all charges, and while Castiel firmly believed in the judicial system, he couldn’t help but wonder if they’d dropped a very precious ball by letting him go. Just his presence made Castiel’s skin crawl, and he was thankful more than ever before that he was a name partner and could choose to turn Alistair away without worrying about the consequences about refusing such a high profile, high paying client. It was a ridiculous request at any rate, Castiel spent his time and effort prosecuting those who broke environmental law - and from what Alistair explained about his company, they were breaking just about all of them and asking Castiel to help them get away with it. He left easily enough, but that fact didn’t stop Castiel from feeling like he’d just been run over by a freight train by the time his partner meeting came around. 

 

That particular meeting was long and boring, but necessary for a myriad of reasons. Cass didn’t mind them, but they certainly weren’t meetings he looked forward to, either. They took one small break so Benny could catch up with one of his overseas clients and Cass used that opportunity to text Dean. It wasn’t much, just a quick lament about the day’s meetings and how he desperately wished he was at home on his couch with Chinese takeout. He sent the message and pocketed his phone as the meeting resumed, and he noticed on more than one occasion that Sam Winchester was looking at him like he was hoarding a state secret. Which, Castiel supposed, he was. To his knowledge, Dean still hadn’t divulged their relationship to his younger brother, and Castiel was no closer to spilling the beans for him than he had been on the day he agreed to keep the secret until Dean was ready. All the awkward looks served to do was make everyone in the room slightly more uncomfortable than they had been a couple of hours earlier. 

 

He survived the rest of the partner meeting and finally,  _ finally  _ escaped to his own office after a brief stop in the library to gather some materials he thought might be helpful in building the case against Dick Roman. Roman was essentially everything Castiel hated about humanity - he took whatever he wanted from whomever he wanted, and laid waste to planet earth in the process. Castiel knew at the end of the day, environmental law wouldn’t be the niche that brought down Dick Roman, but if Cass managed to make him pay even a fraction of the damages he owed, he would consider it one of the highlights of his career. 

 

He did a careful little shuffle of the books in his arms to free his hand enough to open his office door, and when he opened it, he nearly dropped all of the books anyway. The smell hit him before the sight did - orange chicken and fried rice and - yes, yes, Dean had brought wontons. Some of the tension left Cass’s shoulders and he smiled truly for what felt like the first time that entire day. 

 

“Hello, Dean.” 

 

“Heya, Cass. Figured you might be hungry.” Dean smirked like he knew what a lifesaver he really was. 

 

Cass set the books down on the desk next to the little cardboard containers holding his dinner and pulled Dean into a hug, which quickly turned into a kiss. Dean’s arms wrapped around him and encompassed him as eager yet playful teeth nipped at his bottom lip. Someone cleared their throat, and it took Cass several seconds to realize it wasn’t him  _ or  _ Dean. He pulled back from the embrace to look around, and his eyes fell on his very embarrassed looking coworker. 

 

“Sammy?!” Dean’s voice was half surprise and half panic as he pulled back from Cass to look at his brother. 

 

“Uhh… Dean? First of all, I told you so. Second… if you’re going to sneak into the place I work, next time… make sure you tell my secretary not to tell me.” Sam smiled in the way that only teasing little brothers can, and Dean’s face erupted in the most adorable blush Cass had ever seen. 

 

“So umm.. Yeah, this is uhhh… Sammy, this is Castiel.” 

 

Sam burst out into laughter. “I’ve worked with him for six years, Dean. I think I know who he is.” 

 

The redness in his cheeks deepened, and Cass bit his bottom lip to keep from smiling as he put his arm around Dean. “It’s okay, Dean. I really don’t think he minds.” 

 

“Minds?! I’m pretty sure this gives me the  _ ultimate  _ ‘I told you so’ rights. Other than that… as long as you two are happy, I’m fine with it. I just wish you’d have trusted me enough to tell me.” Sam fixed an  _ I mean you too, Cass  _ glare at him, and Cass just shrugged sheepishly. 

 

“I promised him I wouldn’t. You’re his brother, it seemed right that you’d hear it from Dean and not me.” 

 

“Yeah, Cass, problem is that I didn’t hear it from  _ anyone,  _ I had to get lucky and catch you guys when the door was still open.” He shook his head, but it was clear in the lines of his face that he wasn’t actually angry. 

 

Dean finally found his voice again. “Yeah, whatever, man. You want some friggen egg rolls or what?” 

 

Sam loosened his tie as he closed the distance between himself and Cass’s desk. He picked up two of the egg rolls and the entire carton of general tso’s chicken that Dean had gotten for himself. He grinned smugly at the offended look on Dean’s face, then Sam snatched one of the fortune cookies from the table and tossed it to Dean. “Here, I’ll save you the trouble. Your fortune is:  _ Kinky office sex with your brother’s coworker will lead to an early death.”  _

 

“Alright, first of all - gross, these cookie creators need to mind their damn business and second of all - gross,  _ you  _ need to mind your own damn business.” 

 

Cass chuckled. “Dean… I think he was joking.” 

 

Dean looked at him like he was an alien. “Did - did you just understand a joke… and think that  _ I  _ didn’t?” 

 

He blinked. “Uhm…” 

 

“On that note,” Sam interjected. “I’m gonna take my food and run, but you two have fun with… whatever’s happening here.” He ducked out of the room, completely ignoring each and every one of Dean’s protests. 

 

Dean turned to him once Sam was gone. “I mean, I’m glad he ain’t pissed or whatever, but that little shit ran off with my food, and I’m friggen starving. I’m gonna go pick somethin’ else up, but uhhh… how much later you gonna be? I was thinkin’ I’d take you up on that offer to come over again tonight.” 

 

Cass looked from Dean’s hopeful expression to the pile of work on his desk. “I can make it an early night, but I do at least need to get started. I’ll walk you down, meet me at my place in an hour?” 

 

Dean nodded and they headed towards the elevator. Cass smiled fondly as they boarded this time, no longer concerned at all with whether or not they’d get stuck. Dean started humming something Cass didn’t recognize. “What is that?” 

 

Dean grinned. “Ahh, nothin’. Just makin’ a little elevator music.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, I hope this is sufficient to tide you guys over for a few weeks. I’m thinking I’ll have time to pick this back up in September, so stay subscribed. I’m treating this like Swan Song... the end that’s not really the end. See you all soon, and I should also have some oneshots coming out during EM’s hiatus if I can squeeze in a little bit of time. I 🖤 you all, and I’ll see you in September...


	21. Chapter 21

Hi guys, so I know I said I'd be continuing this in September, and I tried - I really did - but no matter how I attempted to keep going with it, it wasn't working out. I think this particular fic has run it's course, but don't worry too much - I've started another one! Chapter one will be up shortly. This one is a little different but still Destiel in theme. I'll post the summary below, it starts off a little slow (it's definitely a slow burn, I've got 10K words written so far and Dean and Cass haven't even spoken to each other yet) but I promise it's gonna be a good one. It's sort of... loosely based off of a real life thing that happened to me during my hiatus, so it's also kind of therapy for me. 

Don't Die in Norwalk: 

Dean has lived the majority of his adult life doing what he wanted when he wanted, as long as he was still able to look out for his little brother, Sammy. That included who he wanted... girls, guys... he wasn't altogether that picky. But now he was almost thirty, and dating pressures from his family led to him settling down with a beautiful woman named Lisa Braeden. The only problem? He hates it. He hates being in a relationship, he hates having someone around 24/7 - especially since Lisa spends most of her time stealing his food and arguing with him about music. So when his best friend Charlie convinces him to go see a Led Zeppelin cover band, he takes that as a welcome distraction - until they return to that same venue the following week and he's introduced to the greatest distraction of them all - Castiel Novak, guitarist, vocalist, and general rock god. He's insanely good looking, talented, and entirely unavailable to Dean... until a spontaneous trip with Charlie puts them on a collision course that will change more than one aspect of Dean's life. 

I really hope you guys enjoyed Elevator Music, and I hope to see you again for Don't Die in Norwalk!

**Author's Note:**

> This will be updated every Thursday and Sunday.


End file.
